


The Forest For The Trees

by fictionalthirst



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Complicated Relationships, Confusion, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, Mundane Eos, Pining, Sexual Tension, dad cor leonis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-22 00:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30030474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalthirst/pseuds/fictionalthirst
Summary: Prompto is crushing hard on Gladio, now that they've been spending a lot of time alone together, what with their friends all breaking off into couples. He's surprised at a group meet-up to find that Gladio's gone the way of their other friends, when he brings a woman Prompto's never met before.He's the last of the group to grow up and find someone, and the ordeal just brings to light all of the areas in which Prompto thinks he is lacking.
Relationships: Ardyn Izunia/Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Aranea Highwind, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Monica Elshett/Cor Leonis
Comments: 22
Kudos: 26





	1. Diner Dates

**Author's Note:**

> The Pining AU no one asked for, but my heart did. This is the typical Eos I like to use when I don't wanna deal with depressing destiny stuff, but depressing romantic complications! There's no magic, no prophecy, no daemons, but the Royal lines still exist. Sort of a university AU, also.
> 
> I'm impulsively posting this without being done writing it. I hope you'll forgive me of some spotty updates. It's all outlined, though, so I have a plan. I swear! <3

Prompto shuffles through all of the items on his bathroom sink, not caring that he will have to spend the better part of the morning returning all of the items to their right place. He is running late and he’s going to be the last one to arrive at the diner if he can’t find his contact lens case.

“Dad,” Prompto calls down the stairs. “Have you seen my contacts?”

“Not since this morning when they were in your eyes, Prompto,” Cor calls back, fixing himself a dinner for one, since Prompto will be dining out. “Did you check your gym bag?”

“Good call,” Prompto answers, rushing across the hall to his room to dig through the bag. His phone chimes with the alarm he’d set and he curses under his breath. “No time,” he huffs and resigns himself to wearing his glasses. He takes a few errant seconds to check his reflection, tousling his hair a little to get the effect he wants.

_Ah, well, Gladio says I look cute in my glasses, anyway,_ Prompto smiles to himself, remembering the moment the larger man had said it. He can still feel how his heart flipped around in his chest when Gladio looked down at him fondly as they relaxed together on Gladio’s sofa while they watched a movie.

There had been a lot of nights of just Gladio and Prompto spending time together, of late. As the four all grew older and had begun to develop romantic attachments, there was less time for just the guys to gather. Not to mention school, and now work. And Royal responsibilities for some of them.

Tonight’s the first time in almost a month that the four boys will be together again.

“Gotta run,” Prompto tosses over his shoulder as he bounds down the stairs and out the door. “Bye Dad, love you!”

“Call if you’re going to be home late,” Cor reminds him. 

“Yep!” Prompto answers, but he is already halfway down the porch steps. His father is a bit of a helicopter parent, even now that Prompto is twenty-two, but it’s nice to know he’s cared for, so Prompto doesn’t have much to complain about.

His phone buzzes against his hand in his pocket, a text from Noctis:

**NLC:** gonna be like 5 mins late  
**NLC:** c u soon  
**PL:** no prob bud, see you then

Hopping on his scooter, a formerly rusty old thing that he’d fixed up and painted chocobo yellow, Prompto guns the accelerator and putts down the street at top speed - a maximum of 30 mph. It isn’t a fast or glamorous ride, but it’s affordable and also something he can fix up easily if it needs repair. He’s good with tinkering, but inexperienced with machines larger than a refrigerator.

Not only that but, as Gladio had put it, it matches his overall personality. So maybe Prompto had been keeping her alive a little longer than she might have lasted, for the aesthetic choice.

The restaurant is about fifteen minutes away by scooter, and it affords him plenty of time to let his eagerness to see Gladio really take root. They had been texting for the past few days, but it’s been a bit since they’ve _seen_ each other in person.

Face-to-face is preferable to Prompto, because texting is nice, and a great way to keep in contact when they are apart, but being _with_ Gladio is a different experience altogether. Mostly because the man is so very _hands-on_ in person.

A hand on his shoulder, or an arm slung over both of them. Fingers ruffling his hair. Leaning comfortably into each other while sitting together on couches. One time, both broad hands caged Prompto’s hips as the larger man passed behind him in Noctis’s kitchen. Prompto had nearly swooned, then.

That is to say nothing of the look in Gladio’s eyes on occasion, when Prompto says something particularly clever or silly. A fondness. A little bit of heat, following it. Prompto doesn’t think he is merely _seeing into it_.

Needless to say, Prompto has harbored a pretty strong crush on Gladio since they’d met, but of course at that time the differences in their ages seemed insurmountable, not to speak of Prompto’s massive inferiority complex. Gladio was, well, _Gladio_ , all muscle and eyes and charm. Prompto felt like he might fall out of his sneakers if he stepped wrong. Not that that had changed _much_ over the years. But their acquaintance has grown into familiarity, has grown into fondness. Now, closeness. One might even argue intimacy. Or at least, intimacy-adjacent.

As much time as he had spent with Noctis in high school, he now spends with Gladio on the regular, since Noctis is often preoccupied by his impending future and his time with Princess Lunafreya.

Being with Gladio is always exhilarating, no matter what they’re doing. The times when Gladio first invited him over to his place had been an exercise in self-torture. Nowadays, they’re as comfortable as slipping into pajamas.

Prompto is hoping that tonight will end with an invite back to Gladio’s. They had been planning to see the latest movie in the Enix Cinematic Universe, and they still have to do a little catch-up for Gladio, who hasn’t been watching them in order. It hurts Prompto’s feelings that he’d been jumping all around the chronology, but the late-night snuggling more than makes up for it.

Pulling up to a stop light, Prompto notices a young woman holding up a cardboard sign indicating that she is homeless and hungry - and at a further look he notices the teenager nearby her with a can next to him, begging as well.

His heart aches to see them, knowing that he could have been so close to the struggle they now face, if he hadn’t been adopted by his father.

He pulls his scooter into a spot near the sidewalk and waves them over, unzipping his wallet.

“Hey guys,” Prompto nods at them. “Here.” He hands each of them a twenty. “If you wanna grab some good food for pretty cheap, there’s a diner around the corner that’s pretty good. I’m heading there myself.”

“Thank you so much,” The girl smiles sadly. The boy is a little more gruff, muttering his thanks as well. “We’ll have to check it out.”

“You got somewhere to stay?” Prompto asks, a hopeful curve to his mouth, trying not to push too much pity into it.

“Shelter over on Garnet Street,” The boy answers. 

“Good,” Prompto nods. “I know it’s not much, but hopefully that’ll help.”

“More than anyone else has given us,” The boy looks down, somewhat ashamed. It hurts Prompto to see. He knows it isn’t their fault - this sort of thing sometimes happens to kids in the system when they age out. “Thanks again.”

“Yeah, glad to do it,” Prompto smiles again, starting his scooter up once more. “Good luck.”

He is a little late arriving at the diner after the exchange, but he lets himself be alright with it, considering the circumstances. He parks his scooter on the street, pulling some of the wiring to make it less easy to steal, and trots back down the block to the entrance of the restaurant.

“Prom, over here!” Noct calls from the enormous corner booth. Where, to his surprise, there are far more people than the three he expected. Double the headcount.

Luna and Noct are sitting close in the inner corner. Ignis, and his partner, Ardyn, sit to the younger couple’s left. And Gladio... sits next to a woman Prompto has never seen before in his life. With his arm around her. And her hand on his thigh, from what Prompto can see from his vantage point.

His heart plummets into his stomach, the splash coating his lungs in a tar that feels absolutely poisonous. He swallows around the discomfort, the disappointment, and it feels sharp and jagged in his throat. He does his best to pull his mouth into a pleasant grin, but he has the suspicion that it isn’t quite believable.

“Dude, I thought _we_ were gonna be the late ones,” Noctis laughs. “You okay? You never show up late and if you do it’s like, because of a fire or broken limbs or something.”

“Yeah, sorry, just took a little detour,” Prompto smiles shakily, casting about for a place to sit.

“Pull up a chair,” Noct nods toward the table behind Prompto. He scoots the thing over the linoleum and settles uncomfortably alone on the edge of the table not occupied by the booth seating.

“Hey, squirt,” The woman says, drawing his attention, her bright red lips curved dangerously at him. “I’m Aranea. Nice to meet you.”

“Hi, likewise,” Prompto grins, feeling like it’s drawn on his face in chalk, roughly rendered and easily wiped away.

“I hear you play a mean game of Homesteaders of Cauthess,” Aranea fixes him with a challenging look. “Gladio says you’re undefeated.”

“Haha, yeah,” Prompto laughs politely. Great, his first impression is that of a super-nerd. The chunky black glasses probably aren’t helping. “I’ve been playing it with my dad since I was pretty young. Every Sunday afternoon.”

“You ever enter a tourney?” Aranea leans her chin on one sharply manicured hand, elbow on the table, as if Prompto is extremely interesting. The scrutiny is uncomfortable.

“No, no way,” Prompto sputters. “I’m not nearly good enough for that.”

“Pish,” Ardyn raises a brow. “Prompto, you’ve thoroughly trounced both Ignis and myself, and that’s no mean feat. Imposter syndrome absolutely rules this child.”

“Thanks, grandpa,” Prompto shoots back, rolling his eyes. “Ignis, I thought we talked about him calling me a child.” Aranea’s laugh is short and to the point, and Prompto can sense that it’s a rare thing. It makes him just a little shy.

“Well, compared to Ardyn, we’re all kids,” Gladio smirks from across the table.

“I’ll not hear this slander,” Ardyn replies. “I’ll show you infants just how youthful and spry this old man is.” He gestures to the waitress.

“Ardyn,” Ignis warns, his own hand pulling his partner’s down from above his head. “I refuse to drive you home because you feel the need to drink the younger members of our group under the table to assert your dominance. Or youth. Whichever this outburst concerns.”

“Yes, dear,” Ardyn concedes. “My impulse control.” He gestures to his partner, for Aranea’s benefit. The rest of the group already knows the truth of the statement.

“Prompto,” Luna calls his attention. “How has your semester been? I saw that you hadn’t entered the Art Exhibition this term.”

“Yeah, things are kind of busy and I haven’t had time to really get any good shots,” Prompto shrugs. “Maybe next semester. I have a lighter class load planned.”

“I do hope so,” Luna smiles sympathetically. “I enjoy your work so much. And of course those exhibitions are good for networking. You should be thinking of the future and who you might meet! Once they see your art, they’ll be begging for you to work for them.”

“Aw, thanks Luna,” Prompto flushes. “I’ll try harder. Just for you.”

Luna laughs and Noct tosses a healthy dose of stink-eye Prompto’s way. “Hey, no flirting with my girlfriend.”

“Can’t help it,” Prompto says, throwing a breathy affectation into his voice. “She flirted first! Telling me she likes my art. What’s a boy to do?”

The evening continues similarly, good natured ribbing and talk of weekend plans, lamentations over work and the slow crawl of time between now and the end of the year. Solstice can’t come soon enough for the seven of them.

Prompto is surprised at how much he _likes_ Aranea, even though she has a great deal of Gladio’s attention. She engages Prompto in conversation regularly, even when he wants to hang back and just feel sorry for himself about his crush being so infuriatingly unavailable to him. It isn’t her fault that he’d gotten ideas about Gladio that were clearly unreciprocated. But it doesn’t stop him from feeling like there is a collapsing star in the pit of his stomach.

“Excuse us,” A soft voice says from over Prompto’s shoulder. He turns to find the kids from the street standing shyly behind him. “Thank you, again. It was as good as you said.”

Prompto smiles at them, a genuine tug of his mouth that he hasn’t felt since walking into the diner. “Yeah, isn’t it? What’d you have?”

“Burgers,” The boy answers, pulling on the girl’s arm, desperate to get out of the situation from what Prompto can see.

“Really, thank you,” She says, again, and Prompto feels a flush of embarrassment.

“Glad to help,” Prompto nods “Have a good night.”

“You too,” She smiles, and turns to leave with the boy.

When Prompto turns back around to face the group, they are all staring.

“What?” Prompto blinks.

“Who were they?” Noct asks, and it sounds a bit like he can’t believe that Prompto might have other acquaintances than the group in front of him.

“Uh,” Prompto shifts his eyes back and forth. “I, uh, don’t know their names.”

“Good friends of yours?” Ignis asks, an amused tilt to his eyebrows and mouth.

“No, I just met them,” Prompto answers. “Told them this place has cheap and good food.”

“They’re homeless,” Luna surmises. “Those poor kids.”

“Yeah,” Prompto says, a bit sadly. “It’s really too bad. No one deserves that.”

Noct seems to shutter, no doubt with frustration that his family’s power over the city can do something to help people like them, but he has yet to be trusted with its use.

“That was kind of you, Prompto, to help them,” Luna smiles gently, a knowing look in her eyes. Either she has assumed he helped them monetarily, or she supposes he might be reflecting over the possibility that he could have become them. It is out of the goodness of her own heart, but it embarrasses Prompto further.

“I didn’t really do anything,” Prompto shrugs, glancing away from her gaze. For lack of anything else to say about it, he deflects. “We’re splitting the checks, right? I don’t have any cash on me - just my card.”

~~~

After the checks are paid, the group ambles out into the street and finds that the late November night has finally begun to feel in-season. The cold seeps into Prompto’s multiple layers, and some of the others have dressed for far warmer weather.

“Prom, you need a ride?” Gladio asks, his warm breath fogging in front of his mouth. The first words he’s said directly to Prompto all night.

“Nah, I got my trusty steed parked down the block a little,” Prompto answers with a strained grin, thumb pointing in the direction of his parking space. “Thanks though.”

“Hey,” Aranea says, getting his attention. “It was good to meet you, kid. See you around?”

“Most likely,” Prompto pulls his grin wider, hoping that it is convincing enough. He _does_ want to see her again, just _not_ on Gladio’s arm. “‘Night guys.”

With a wave and a farewell from the group, Prompto jogs down the sidewalk, the cold explaining away his haste. He puts the scooter’s workings to rights before jamming the key in the ignition and pulling carefully out of the space.

He manages to hold himself together until he pulls into the driveway, stowing the scooter away in the garage.

“Shit,” He mutters to himself, feeling the creeping crawl of tears in his eyes and his throat.

When he opens the door, he can hear the television in the living room, the Tonberry Chef announcer droning on about ingredients. Hopefully his dad has fallen asleep in front of it, and it’ll spare Prompto some embarrassment.

He shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the hooks near the door, kicking his boots off, too.

“Prompto, is that you?”

Of course he can’t be that lucky. He should have guessed, given how the rest of the night had gone.

“Yeah, I’m home,” _Damn it,_ Prompto hears the shakiness of his voice. His dad is going to know right away. “Tired, though, heading to bed. G’night!”

He makes it up five steps before Cor calls after him, his heavier footsteps echoing over the hardwood floors as he makes his way to where Prompto is trying to escape.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Prompto pushes both of his lips between his teeth, fighting off the prickling pain in his throat, but it’s useless when a single tear escapes his eye.

Cor’s hand slips over Prompto’s shoulder in a gesture of concern, and Prompto turns into it, throwing himself into his dad’s chest and letting the tears flow.

Cor doesn’t ask any questions, just holds him, lets him let it all out until his nose is running and he is laughing sheepishly.

“Sorry, Dad,” Prompto says, wiping his face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cor asks, his face placid if not for the slight line between his brows that convey his worry.

“Not really,” Prompto sighs. “Just me being stupid.”

“Hey,” Cor reprimands him, gently. “You’ve never been stupid, not since the moment I met you. Don’t talk down about yourself.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Prompto nods, the discussion a common one. “Just feeling rough. I’ll get over it.”

“If you need to share, you know you just have to say so.”

“Thanks, Dad. I love you.” Prompto just wants to be in his room, alone, to feel miserable. But he also feels miserable wanting to pull away from his father, who truly cares for him.

“I love you, too, Prompto,” Cor tousles Prompto’s hair affectionately. “Take whatever time you need.”

“I’m gonna head to bed,” Prompto says, his hand covering his father’s. “See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight.” Cor releases him and returns to the living room to finish watching the program.

Prompto makes his way up to his room, undressing and flopping into his bed. He stares up at the ceiling, the glow-in-the-dark star stickers distracting, but not quite enough.

“I _am_ stupid,” He tells them; sighs and presses his face into the pillow, desperate for sleep. To just not be conscious until the morning.


	2. Movie Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio sets up a movie outing with the group, which Luna and Ravus encourage Prompto to attend. Since Ravus is single, as well, Prompto trusts that at least this time he won't be the odd man out.

**G_A:** ‘Morning, Prom.  
 **G_A:** I’m gonna try to set up a movie night this weekend.  
 **G_A:** So we can maybe see that new ECU flick before we all get spoiled.  
 **G_A:** You up for it?   
**G_A:** I know you wanted me to see all of them in order first, but I don’t want to wait.  
 **G_A:** It’ll probably be the whole group.  
 **G_A:** You have someone you wanna bring?  
 **G_A:** Prom?

~~~

Prompto sighs as he gathers his bag, thankful to be leaving his Business Photography class. It’s dry and full of techniques that Prompto is fully aware of, so he’s not getting much out of it besides the points toward his GPA. The semester has exactly one week left, and he’s ready to be done with it. He only has a few required classes left in his major, and he will be free to move on to looking for real work. Maybe then he can move out of his Dad’s house and feel like a _real_ adult.

He has a good hour before his next class, and so he makes his way to the cafeteria, grabbing a salad, an iced tea and an orange and heading to the outdoor quad.

“Prompto!” Luna waves from a table in the shade, her tall, intimidating brother, Ravus, sitting across from her. Prompto notices her plain-clothes guards seated a few tables away, their gazes sliding right past him with familiarity. He’s a little happy that he lives a relatively normal life despite being the Marshal’s son.

“Hey, Luna, Ravus,” Prompto greets them, settling himself safely next to Luna, who he is _much_ more familiar with. “How are you guys?”

“Looking forward to afternoon classes,” Luna says. “Both electives. Ceramics and Life Drawing.”

“I miss Life Drawing,” Prompto nods. “It was always a treat.”

“Prompto!” Luna laughs, scandalized at the implication as to _why_ it was a treat.

“I don’t mean like that!” Prompto flushes. “I just really liked the quiet and the challenge! I’m not much of an illustrative artist but I always felt accomplished after those classes.”

“Yes, I can see what you mean,” Luna agrees. “Ravus, have you taken any art classes this semester?”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t find time in my schedule,” Ravus rolls his eyes. “If I wanted to feel inadequate, I’d also take advanced neuroscience.”

“Not a fan of art?” Prompto asks, a little surprised. Luna’s major is in healthcare, but she’s always been rather prolific in her artistic endeavors in her free time. He expected Ravus to be similar, though now that Prompto thinks of it, he’s not terribly familiar with how different siblings can be. Gladio and Iris - _ugh_. Will literally _anything_ fail to remind him of Gladio?

“I’ve never been particularly adept,” Ravus answers. “Lunafreya inherited all of the talent from our mother.”

“Now, Ravus,” Luna chides him with fondness. “Your work is just as beautiful and creative. Don’t pretend you are bereft of her skills.”

“What’s your major?” Prompto asks, willing himself to get invested in the conversation, rather than dwell on his hurt feelings.

“Literature and Creative Writing,” Ravus answers.

“Ah, cool,” Prompto nods, finally digging into his food.

“I do want to apologize for the other night,” Luna says, suddenly. “I asked Noctis to warn you that it was going to be a Couple Fest. You know how he forgets if he doesn’t do something right away.”

“It’s fine,” Prompto lies, feeling a shard of his broken heart loosening to cut him further.

“Precisely the reason I declined the invitation,” Ravus says, a faint annoyance in his features.

“Well if you had come, we’d have been in good company,” Prompto says, in good humor. “Next time, give me a heads up.”

“Speaking of next times,” Luna interjects. “Gladio is setting up a movie outing, did he tell you?”

“Yeah, he did,” Prompto answers. He wants to see the movie, but he _does not_ want to be stuck in a dark theater with Aranea and Gladio cuddling right next to him. “I’m not sure if I want to crash another group of couples.”

“You and I could sit somewhere else in the theater,” Ravus suggests, smiling, the look so foreign on his face that it seems almost bitter. “I, for one, don’t want to be thrown in the mix with them either. But I can hardly miss seeing the film. I’m fairly invested in the ECU.”

“Yeah, me too,” Prompto says, a little surprised. He’s learning a lot about Ravus today.

“Oh, shoot,” Luna says, glancing at her watch. “I need to go, Noctis is waiting for me in the Library. Do consider coming, Prompto! You and Ravus would get along, you’re both absolute nerds for this stuff.” She kisses her brother on his temple and dashes off. “Bye!”

“See ya,” Prompto calls after her, and Ravus just nods her way.

“Should we exchange numbers?” Ravus asks, suddenly. Prompto blinks, returning his attention to the taller man. “Just in case one of us needs to bail out of the group date.”

“Oh,” Prompto laughs. “Sure. Here, gimme your phone.” He hands his own over, too.

~~~

**G_A:** Busy, huh?  
 **PL:** yeah, sorry  
 **PL:** talked to luna, i’ll be there  
 **G_A:** Saturday, 7pm showing. Want me to get you a ticket?  
 **PL:** nah, ravus said he’d grab me one  
 **G_A:** Ravus?  
 **G_A:** Like, _Ravus_ , Ravus?  
 **G_A:** Since when are you guys friendly?  
 **G_A:** Prom, are you leaving me on read?

~~~

The theater is a quick walk from Prompto’s job, so he settles in for a coffee in the bookshop cafe until it’s time to leave for the movie. It’s nice to get free drinks, even if the hours are hellish and the customers are rude.

When he gets to the theater, the others are standing in a semi-circle outside of the building, but Prompto doesn’t see Ravus yet. He checks his phone to see if he’s missed a text, but there’s nothing since they sent a quick “hi” to each other to establish their own text chain.

“There he is,” Aranea waves, wearing a killer ankle-length fur coat, her beat up combat boots peeking out from under the hem. Noct, Luna, Ignis and Ardyn wave, too. “Where’s your date?”

“Wh- I don’t have one,” Prompto blurts. “Where’s _yours_?”

“Parking his stupidly loud truck,” Aranea laughs.

“Prompto,” Ardyn grins at him, clearly well under the influence of an intoxicant, putting his arm around Prompto’s shoulders. Ignis sighs, trying to pull his partner back by the hand, their fingers linked in a vice-grip. “Can _you_ please summarize what I’ll need to know to enjoy this film?”

“Uh,” Prompto laughs, trying to hold up Ardyn’s weight. “No, not possible in the next ten minutes, unfortunately.”

“Ah, well,” Ardyn stands under his own power and shrugs, the way only the truly carefree can when seeing the twentieth film in an ongoing series. “I’m sure it’ll be lovely on its own.”

“Not likely,” Ravus says, startling Prompto as he approaches from behind. “Considering the last three films have been fairly dependent on knowing the rest of them.”

“Eh, you never know,” Prompto turns, recovering. “They might do a recap at the beginning of this one.”

“Like they did in Champions of the Cosmos Two?” Ravus scoffs, his face relaying his disgust for the technique. “I hope not. So trite.”

“True,” Prompto laughs. He’d never have guessed that he and Ravus would have so much in common. It’s kind of nice.

“Hey, guys, sorry,” Gladio says as he makes his way up the sidewalk. “Had to park two blocks away. Oh, hey Prom!”

“Hi,” Prompto gives him a stilted smile and nod.

“What did you think of Commander Enix?” Ravus asks Prompto after a beat, seemingly ignoring Gladio’s presence.

“Oh, I love her,” Prompto grins. “She’s got a great character arc.”

“Agreed,” Ravus smiles, and it looks a little more fitting to his face, now that Prompto has seen it again. “I hope they make a sequel, despite all of the terrible reviews.”

“Me too,” Prompto says, far more comfortable with Ravus than he was just a few days ago.

“Prom, you got a ticket?” Gladio says, cutting into their conversation with a touch of impatience in his voice.

“I’ve got it,” Ravus assures them both.

“Thank the gods for that,” Ignis says under his breath. Prompto wonders if he indulged a bit alongside his lover, being so overtly hostile. Though it’s no secret that there is a bit of bad blood between him and Ravus since before Prompto knew any of them.

Ravus clearly decides to ignore Ignis completely, and in fact focuses most of his energy toward chatting with Prompto about the extended ECU while they wait in line.

“Hey, Prom,” Gladio says from behind them, he and Aranea standing close, sharing warmth. “What was the one before this one?”

“Continuum Strife,” Prompto answers, hesitating to say anything that might be considered a spoiler in the midst of a crowd. “You know. The one where… everything is pretty bad?”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Gladio nods. “Damn, I kinda wish we’d rewatched it right before this.”

“I did suggest that,” Prompto mutters, and Ravus shoots him a snarky grin. Prompto can’t help but chuckle a little.

~~~

Ravus and Prompto take up a couple of seats in the row in front of the others, settling in with their drinks and popcorn and chatting idly about what they think is going to be included in the current film adapted from the game series. He enjoys talking theory with someone who is just as interested in the narrative and character development, rather than the others who watch just for the _entertainment only_.

_Casuals._

When the film begins, he and Ravus keep their comments to a minimum, and in whispers only, leaning close and chuckling when their predictions come true.

It’s truly the most fun Prompto has had in a while.

Until in the third act, Ravus’s hand slips over Prompto’s knee and Prompto’s eyes widen in shock.

Unsure of what to do, never having been in any such position, not even in the comfort of Gladio’s embrace, Prompto simply sits stock-still. It’s a little thrilling, if he were to be honest, having someone so overtly expressing _interest_ in him. Rather than an affection that can be incorrectly interpreted.

Their commentary ceases in the final few scenes, and Prompto is a bit too shy to reciprocate any expression of interest, mostly because he’s not sure if he shares it.

“That was pretty satisfying,” Ravus says without a trace of irony as the credits begin. “They did a decent job in the adaptation. Though I really wish they’d included the reconciliation scene on the hill. But I guess it didn’t fit the tone of the ending they had been working toward.”

“Yeah,” Prompto says, a little stiff. “But there’s still the after-credits scene. They might put it there.”

“You might be right,” Ravus smiles down at him. “That would be a pretty ingenious stinger.”

“Hey, you two,” Luna leans forward and grabs their attention. Ravus wisely removes his hand from Prompto’s thigh. “We’re going to the diner after this.”

“Alright,” Ravus nods.

“Cool,” Prompto answers, wondering just how touchy-feely Ravus will be when the lights are on and everyone is nearby.

~~~

Unfortunately the only table available to a group of their size is made up of the smaller free-standing tables in the center of the restaurant. It’s not as cozy as a booth, but it’s the only practical way to all be able to sit together. Prompto is a little relieved, to be honest - a booth might afford Ravus the opportunity to put his hand back on Prompto’s leg, and he’s still not sure what to do about the complicated feelings he has about it. Thankfully, Ravus is much more subdued in the bright lights of the diner, but there is still an arm thrown over the back of Prompto’s chair as they chat further about the film.

“Prom, did you know that the general was going to turn against them?” Gladio asks, interrupting their little tête-à-tête.

“Uh, yeah,” Prompto nods. “It’s a really great scene in the game. They pushed the drama a little too much in the film for my taste, though.”

“Yeah, it was a little hard to believe that Commander Enix would have reacted that way,” Gladio says, leaning forward in his seat as Aranea chats with Ardyn and Ignis.

“She was perfectly in-character,” Ravus interjects, sourly. “It was Commander Eos that was written poorly in that scene. They’ve tried to make him more flexible in his morality but at what cost?”

Prompto blinks at the two of them staring each other down, feeling like he’s merely a spectator in some kind of strange competition. Gladio does the thing where he clenches his jaw over and over; an indicator that he’s doing his level-best not to say something rude.

Ravus turns his attention back to Prompto, and the warm look sets Prompto’s heart to fluttering, but it comes with an equal measure of unease. He’s fairly certain at this point that Ravus’s interest is purely physical, as they don’t know each other well at all. And that is something of a deal-breaker when it comes to Prompto’s needs.

“It’s getting late,” Gladio notes. “Prom, you need a ride home, right? Cor’ll be pissed if you’re walking this late.”

“I’ve already offered my services,” Ravus answers, and Prompto doesn’t remember any such conversation between them.

“Prom?” Gladio asks, unwilling to take Ravus’s word, clenching his jaw again.

“Uh, yeah, it’s alright Gladio,” Prompto answers, not wanting to start a fight between the two of them. It’s a short drive from the diner in a car that can reach outrageous speeds like 45 mph. “Ravus’ll get me home just fine.”

Gladio nods, a hesitance to his expression, but Aranea draws him into the conversation with Ignis and diverts his attention.

“Shall we go?” Ravus asks. “Your father is expecting you home?”

“Y-yeah,” Prompto says, pulling his hoodie back on. “We live on Twelfth and Malachite. It’s not too far out of your way, is it?”

“Not at all,” Ravus smiles. “I’m happy to make sure you get home safely.”

“Thanks,” Prompto says, and they both stand. “Bye, guys.”

The gathering offers their goodbyes, but Gladio only looks at Prompto with drawn brows. It makes Prompto feel guilty, but he is a bit fine with it at the same time. If Gladio is feeling even a fraction of the confusion and disappointment Prompto has been… no. It just settles poorly in the pit of his stomach.

He _misses_ Gladio.

~~~

“So,” Ravus starts, when they’re safely tucked away in his rather posh sports car. “Is there some _reason_ that Gladiolus wouldn’t quit interrupting the flow of our conversation? I was under the impression that he and the silver-haired woman were in a relationship.”

“Um, yeah, they are,” Prompto says, hastily buckling his seatbelt, unsure of Ravus’s driving habits. The car suggests that he likes to move fast.

“He doesn’t seem to enjoy your attention drifting,” Ravus comments. “I saw it as jealousy. Am I wrong?”

“I don’t really know what you mean,” Prompto chuckles. “Gladio was just chatting. He’s not as into the ECU so he usually asks me about what he doesn’t get.”

“And that’s all?” Ravus prods, putting his hand a little higher on Prompto’s thigh than he had in the theater.

“Uh, yeah,” Prompto wriggles a bit, uncomfortable with the intimate touch now that he’s sure he can’t go through with the possible expression of interest.

“But you don’t _want_ it to be all, do you?” Ravus asks, far too clever. “You know what they say: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“ _They_ may say that,” Prompto says, shifting again under the hand on his leg. “But I can’t really do it. Sorry.”

“Ah,” Ravus nods, and removes his hand from Prompto’s person. “Very well. But if you change your mind, I‘m at your disposal. There are few people that I feel a connection with, and I had a very good time with you tonight.”

“If you want to hang out again, I’m glad to,” Prompto smiles gently. “I had fun, too.”

“Let’s get you home,” Ravus says, starting the engine and driving conscientiously out of the parking lot. “I may be a visiting Royal, but I still would not want to get on the bad side of your father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly doing an Eos remix of the MCU. Sue me. WAIT NO DON'T I'M BROKE


	3. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor and Prompto are invited to a party held by both of the Royal families. Prompto has a few errands to run, and gets some unexpectedly helpful advice. Whether he can act on it is another story.

**G_A:** Hey, Prom.  
 **G_A:** Just checking you got home okay.  
 **PL:** yeah, i got home just fine  
 **G_A:** Okay, great.  
 **G_A:** Not really a fan of Ravus so I wanted to make sure nothing weird happened.  
 **PL:** last i checked you’re not my dad  
 **PL:** and i’m a big boy  
 **PL:** who can actually take care of himself  
 **G_A:** Sorry.  
 **G_A:** Just…  
 **G_A:** Are you angry about something?  
 **G_A:** You’ve barely spoken to me in like, a week.  
 **PL:** i’m busy with the end of the semester  
 **PL:** thought that was pretty clear when i said it at the diner last week  
 **G_A:** This isn’t really like you, is all.  
 **G_A:** If something else is wrong, I hope you’d tell me.  
 **G_A:** Prom?

~~~

Prompto stumbles blearily down the stairs the next day at the crack of noon to fix himself some breakfast, and can hear his father on the phone in the family room.

“Yes, sir,” Cor nods, although of course whoever he’s talking to cannot see it. Prompto stifles a laugh, shaking his head fondly. “We’d be happy to attend. I’ll work out the extra security involved. No, sir, it’s my pleasure. Please allow me to do this for you. See you tonight.”

Prompto is just getting the eggs out of the refrigerator when Cor breezes into the kitchen looking a bit harried.

“Mornin’, Dad,” Prompto half-yawns, grabbing down a pan from the hooks above the range. “Want some eggs?”

“I would, except I had my breakfast about four hours ago,” Cor graces Prompto with a rare smile. “I have to get over to the Citadel. Unexpected work. And I need you to do me a few favors today.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“There’s going to be a party at The Cove this evening with His Majesty and His Highness and the Tenebraen Royals,” Cor explains. “We’re both invited, but I want to make sure that the proper security will be set up for the event. I need you to go out and get a gift. Wine, something like that. Something _really_ nice.” Cor fishes out his wallet and hands Prompto one hundred fifty crown. “Keep whatever you don’t spend. And take our good formal wear out and hang them to steam in the bathroom. But make sure that it’s not _wet_ , we don’t have time to-”

“Dad, I got this,” Prompto says, a little huffy. “Wonder why Noct didn’t mention this party last night?”

“Probably something dramatic,” Cor says, affectionately. “You know how the Lucis Caelums are.”

“Haha, def,” Prompto nods, cracking the eggs into the pan. “Don’t work too hard, Dad. Wouldn’t want you to wear yourself out before you get to party hard.”

“Oh, yes, exactly what I plan to do this evening,” Cor says, another smile on his lips. “See you later, son.”

“Bye!” Prompto peppers his eggs and watches them cook, humming to himself and thinking of how much fun tonight will be. Royal parties are always a great time, the younger generation dancing and enjoying themselves while their elders pretend they’re too dignified. Plus, Prompto likes to have an excuse to wear his formal suit every now and then, as well as seeing everyone else decked out.

~~~

It’s around two before Prompto gets out the door to make his way to the liquor store uptown. Traffic is tough on Saturdays, and he’s a bit worried that he won’t have much time to primp when he gets back home. Luckily, parking a scooter is much easier than trying to find a spot for a car, so he’s able to squeeze onto the edge of the sidewalk out front while he ducks in.

Prompto is familiar with what constitutes a good ‘thank you’ gift, having been to these parties about a thousand times in his life, so he makes a beeline for the really good stuff, and almost collides with another customer as he rounds the corner.

“Oh, gods, sorry!” He stammers, checking that they haven’t bumped any of the shelving or the bottles.

“Not to worry, young man,” Ardyn grins. “I’m sturdier than everyone seems to like to imply.”

“Oh, hey,” Prompto smiles back. “You coming tonight? To the thing?”

“I would prefer not,” Ardyn says, a sour twist to his lips. “But you know my darling Ignis convinced me, as he always does. I’d rather stay away from the blinding lights of my family, but with the work my beloved does, it’s almost impossible. If I am to be paraded around those stuffed shirts, I’m going to be properly sauced while I do it.”

“Not too much, though,” Prompto suggests. “Don’t make Iggy’s job any harder than it already is.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ardyn says with a wink. “Are you bringing someone tonight?”

“Nah,” Prompto shifts, uneasily. “I’m not really good with dating.”

“Not even Prince Ravus?” Ardyn asks, with a brow reaching for his hairline. “You two seemed very… cozy, last night.”

“No,” Prompto shakes his head emphatically. “No, that was… he was interested but I…”

“You are interested in someone else,” Ardyn surmises.

_Astrals, am I that transparent?_ Prompto thinks, grimacing internally.

“You know, Prompto,” Ardyn begins, his voice taking on that dreamy, storyteller quality it sometimes does when he is musing about romance. “One can hardly manage to find love if they can’t open their mouth to claim it. Had I waited for my dearest Ignis to overcome his obsessive need to maintain propriety at all times, I might have perished first.”

“Um,” Prompto fidgets. “Yeah, of course, I’m just not… I might be more like Ignis than _you_ in my situation. I can’t really do anything about it.”

“Nonsense,” Ardyn clucks his tongue with disapproval. “Take some control over your own destiny, young man. No one else can do it but you.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Prompto says, rubbing his hand on his neck in embarrassment. “I’ll let you know if I ever work up the guts to actually go through with it.”

“You’ve nothing to be insecure about, Prompto,” Ardyn assures him.

“Coaching our young Mr. Leonis?” Ignis says as he approaches them with a case of wine. “How are you today, Prompto? Please tell me you’re not taking advice from Ardyn. It will only end in tears. Or property damage.”

“It was actually good advice this time,” Prompto insists. “Maybe a bit too good for my abilities, actually.”

“Hm,” Ignis looks at his partner with a wry smile. “Perhaps you deserve a reward.”

“Prompto, mark this day down,” Ardyn says to him, without taking his eyes off of Ignis. “My love has graced me with an acknowledgement that I am not quite the corrupting force he likes to believe.”

“I’ll leave that to you two,” Prompto laughs uncomfortably. He can tell they’re about to get inappropriate. “I have to get something before-” His phone chirps from his pocket. “Yep, that’ll be Dad, wondering how I’m doing. Because he knows I’ve been gone from the house for twenty minutes on an errand. Because he made me text him when I left.”

“Your father means well, Prompto,” Ignis says, charitably.

“How will the boy ever spread his wings, or his legs, for that matter, under the constant vigil of one Cor Leonis?”

Prompto flushes straight down to his toes.

“Ardyn, love, do shut up.” Ignis chides. “We shall take our leave, Prompto. I apologize.”

“I-it’s okay,” Prompto breathes. “See you guys tonight.”

“Until then,” Ignis nods, dragging Ardyn to the front of the shop.

**Dad:** How is everything coming along?  
 **PL:** fine, dad  
 **PL:** i’m at the liquor store right now  
 **PL:** you know, where i’m legally old enough to shop??  
 **Dad:** Sorry, son.  
 **Dad:** I’ll leave you to it.  
 **Dad:** I love you.

Prompto sighs. His father really has a way with making him feel guilty for sassing.

**PL:** love you, too, dad

~~~

“Augh, damn it,” Prompto says at his reflection as he tries to straighten his hair into some version of attractive. He’s left a crimp in part of it, and has to start again, grabbing up the hair that is now burning-hot.

“Everything alright in there?” Cor calls from his room.

“Yeah, just, my hair sucks,” Prompto gripes. “I wish it was just _naturally_ straight. Stupid flippy nonsense.”

“You’re not styling it as usual?” Cor asks as he rounds the corner and watches as Prompto fusses with it. “The normal way hides your cowlick. Or at least, that’s what you’ve said.”

“Yeah but I feel like tonight might be special,” Prompto shrugs. “I wanna look cool.”

“Any particular reason?” Cor asks, trying for casual. Certainly he’s been wondering since the previous night what might have caused his son to come home crying. And probably he’s figured out that it’s because of some _one_.

“Just a general desire to not look like a fifteen year old,” Prompto says, angling the straightener in a way that will give his hair an under-curl. “I don’t wanna have to pull out my ID at the bar, ya know?”

“You’ll grow out of your baby face soon,” Cor promises him. But really, they have no idea if that is true. He doesn’t have any idea what his biological parents look like. “For now, just enjoy it.”

“Says you, the Dad that looks like he’s 30,” Prompto laughs. “I’m sick of my classmates asking if you’re my older brother. It’s weird. Because some of them want to date you.”

“Flattering as that may be,” Cor shakes his head in disappointment, “I’m not terribly thrilled that your peers would say such things to you about me.”

“Dad,” Prompto laughs. “Neither am I.”

“We need to leave in thirty minutes,” Cor reminds him of their departure time for the fifth time in an hour.

“I’m almost done,” Prompto nods, gathering one last bunch of hair. “Just gotta put in my earrings and grab my dress shoes from the back of the closet.”

“Maybe you should bring your glasses, too,” Cor says. “You know how your contacts irritate your eyes after a while.”

“I’m not wearing those tonight,” Prompto balks. “They’re the opposite of cool!”

“I thought you said that you liked the hipster look?” Cor raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s why we splurged for those specific frames.”

“Okay, Dad,” Prompto sets down the straightener and turns to look him in the face. “They’re _perfect_ for my day-to-day look, but tonight? No.”

“Alright,” Cor says, putting his hands up in surrender, and Prompto is a little pleased that he of all people could make his father, Cor “The Immortal”, make such a gesture. He doubts anyone else in the world has ever. “I’ll finish getting myself together.”

“It’s called fashion, Dad, look it up!”

“Yes, yes,” Cor says from his bedroom. “Thirty minutes. No, twenty-five.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Helicopter Dad Cor Leonis.


	4. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto has an unexpectedly great time at the Lucis Caelum/Nox Fleuret party. Even if it _is_ full of complicated feelings.

The Cove is a super-upscale restaurant on the edge of the Northern Insomnian Wall that caters to the ultra-rich and hosts many high-profile parties. From the wide windows, one can see the coast and the ocean. It’s as close to a “cove” as one can get inside the city. It’s also impossible to get in without connections. And the food is _to die for_. Getting into The Cove might be the _one_ perk of being the Prince’s friend that he will selfishly admit to loving.

Everyone is dressed to the absolute nines, Noct even wearing his Princely garb that only gets trotted out for really _really_ important events. Prompto suddenly feels a little shabby for whatever this party is about.

A placard near the bar tells Prompto that this party is in fact in celebration of Noctis and Lunafreya’s official engagement, and he nearly trips over his own feet in surprise.

“Prom!” Noctis calls from across the room, detaching himself from the older guests he’d been speaking with to make his way to his friend.

“Noct, what the hell?” Prompto whispers. “You couldn’t have told me?”

“Sorry,” Noct says, face apologetic. “Pressure to keep it under wraps, ya know? Plus, you’ve been hanging with Gladio so much lately, I haven’t seen you. You replacing me?”

“Of course not,” Prompto says, cuffing him lightly on the arm. “Like Gladio could replace you.”

“You called?” Gladio says from behind them, and the two spin to face him like they’re caught at gossiping or something.

Gladio, as always, is absolutely _stunning_ when he’s forced into formal wear. There’s something about seeing a man so casual and thoroughly allergic to shirts buttoned up and smoothed down. His normally wild hair is tied back in a half-ponytail, the shorter strands held in place with some sort of product, except for two strands that have been artfully tugged down to sweep across the side of his forehead where his scar starts. His beard has been trimmed and the rest of his stubble shaved clean away.

And the suit? Prompto has to stop himself from sighing at the sight of it. The coat is pitch black and embellished with looping silver rope and large buttons all the way down the closure from the stiff collar down to the hem. Underneath, a silver and purple brocade waistcoat over a matching tie and a crisp white shirt.

He is every bit the Prince’s Royal Shield in his formal uniform.

Prompto is suddenly overwhelmed with how much it _sucks_ that he will constantly be confronted with someone he wants _so badly_ and can never have.

“Nice job on the surprise party,” Gladio comments to Noct. “You guy’s’re really grabbing onto that celebrity couple lifestyle, huh?”

“It wasn’t either of our ideas,” Noct grumbles. “I’d’ve told everyone two weeks ago when Dad and Luna’s mom finally got through the contract.”

“Ignis?” Gladio suggests as the mastermind.

“Who else?” Noctis laughs. “I think he’s secretly trying to take the heat off of him and Ardyn. Everytime they go somewhere it’s ‘scandal’ this, and ‘secret boy toy’ that. They might as well just come out with it.”

“Your dad would go ballistic,” Gladio points out. His eyes briefly flit over Prompto, looking him up and down before returning attention to Noctis.

“Hey, I gotta go rescue Luna from Counsellors Turpis and Odiosis,” Noct pats both of them on the shoulders and retreats.

Prompto wonders if he can shift away to find his dad, but of course Gladio’s attention turns immediately toward him.

“You look good,” Gladio comments, reaching over to flick at Prompto’s earrings.

“You’ve seen me in this before,” Prompto blushes, rubbing a hand through the back of his hair, then smoothing it down when he realizes he’s messing his careful style. “I only have this one thing.”

“It’s cute on you every time I see it,” Gladio shrugs. “Better than this overblown band uniform.”

“Are you kidding?” Prompto gapes. “You look so _cool_. Very official and important.”

“I’d take this damn thing all the way off right this second if I wouldn’t get murdered by my father. It’s so stiff.”

_Is he trying to kill me?_ Prompto thinks, loosening the hold his bowtie has on his collar.

“So, hey,” Gladio says, shifting closer. “I miss hanging out. Will you have more free time once the semester is over, or are you gonna pick up more hours at work?”

“Uh,” Prompto feels a little dizzy with Gladio’s insistence. “It’s the slow season at the shop, so there aren’t hours to give, really. So, yeah, I’ll have more free time.”

“Cool,” Gladio nods. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Prompto flushes hot and cold with the joy and agony of Gladio’s desire to spend more time with him. He has to force himself to remember that this is all just friendly, nothing more.

“Uh, so,” Prompto tries, feeling a little shaky with the effort. “Where’s Aranea?”

“Oh,” Gladio blinks. “She didn’t want to come. She said it seemed too ‘family-gathering-like’.”

“That’s a shame,” Prompto says, and means it. He thought at least if he was going to be confronted with their relationship, he’d at least get to talk to her about board games.

“It’s whatever,” Gladio shrugs. “You sittin’ with your dad, or do you wanna come sit with me?”

“I thought it’d be assigned,” Prompto looks around, but realizes there are no place cards on any of the tables. “So I didn’t really consider it.”

“Come on,” Gladio smiles. “It’s buffet-style, sit-where-you-want.”

Despite knowing that avoidance is probably his best option for getting over his attachment, Prompto _cannot_ help going along with what Gladio wants, especially if what Gladio wants is his attention. He should have just made up an excuse to get some distance. Kept up the snarky attitude he had in his texts. But it’s impossible for him to not want to give in to Gladio. 

They grab some drinks from the bar and pick a table in the corner, chatting about what they’re going to get for food before they make their way to the tables to fill up their plates.

Prompto is obsessed with the skewers and the small puff pastries with chili peppers inside, but he forces himself to add salad to the mix, just so he doesn’t look like too much of a glutton. Gladio is shameless and takes exactly what he likes, and big portions. After all, who will complain if the enormous Shield of the Prince eats a metric ton of food?

They spend the evening in each other’s company, thick as thieves and laughing together fondly. It’s just like it’s been the past few months, and Prompto now realizes how deep his affection for Gladio runs. Just a short time without this had really set him in a funk, so much that he was actually _snippy_ with Gladio in their text messages.

Prompto is a hopeless case. But, he supposes, he’ll take what he can get.

“Hey, I want a picture,” Gladio says, suddenly. “On your phone, you’ve got the better camera.”

“Sure,” Prompto says, with a grin. “Okay, a serious one or a fun one?”

“Hang on,” Gladio says, grabbing Prompto’s chin and turning his face toward himself. Gladio’s chocolate brown eyes scan his face and Prompto flushes with the scrutiny. “Just checking you don’t have barbecue sauce all over your face.”

“Jerk,” Prompto laughs, shoving his shoulder and laughing.

“Now you’re messing up your hair,” Gladio says, tucking a loose strand behind his ear. “Take this seriously, will you? We’re dignified.”

“As if,” Prompto laughs, nervous, his skin still tingling with the contact of Gladio’s fingers.

“Alright, lean in,” Gladio says, tilting his enormous body toward Prompto and gathering him closer with a huge arm around Prompto’s slim shoulders. “3, 2, 1…”

Prompto snaps the picture, annoyed at the obvious blush on his cheeks, but it’s still a great shot.

“Look at us,” Gladio nods his approval. “Hot as hell.”

Prompto laughs, and can’t help but lean into the lingering hold Gladio has on him.

“Might I have this dance?” A voice says from behind Prompto, and when he turns, it’s Ravus. 

Despite the awkwardness of their last encounter, Prompto can admit that Ravus is a vision. His sweeping white hair is gathered in an elegant tail at the nape of his neck, and his formal garb is something out of a fairytale; white and silver and light blues, coat with tails and a lovely flower gracing his left lapel.

“Ravus,” Prompto smiles politely. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Ravus smiles back. “Would you care to join me?”

“Sure,” Prompto says, a little nervous. He turns back to Gladio. “Be right back.”

“Yep,” Gladio answers, sounding a little peeved. Prompto remembers that he’s not fond of Ravus, presumably for the same unknown reason that Ignis isn’t.

Ravus leads him gently to the dance floor before sweeping him into his arms and leading him expertly around the space in perfect time to the music. It’s almost as if Ravus has the dance down to a science. Prompto is no slouch; he took dance classes up until he was sixteen before he opted to switch to running and more strength training. Together, they make a good pair as they turn and sway with the music.

“You’re not doing yourself any favors,” Ravus says, when they’re comfortably dancing to a slower song. “You should stay away from him altogether if you want to get over your feelings.”

“I know that,” Prompto says, looking away from Ravus’s piercing gaze. “I just can’t help it.”

“He’s not being fair to you,” Ravus insists.

“He can’t be unfair if he has no idea how I feel,” Prompto sighs. “I don’t really know why you’re so invested in this.”

“I told you,” Ravus pushes. “It is rare for me to find someone that I can connect with. I don’t want to watch you destroy yourself because he’s too blind to see what he has.”

“Ravus,” Prompto says, pulling back from his arms a bit. “I thought I was clear-”

“I know you aren’t romantically interested,” Ravus interjects. “I can handle that. And maybe my infatuation was misplaced. We don’t know each other very well. But I would like to know you. In a friendly capacity. But if you don’t feel the same I’ll back off.”

“As long as you understand that it can’t go any further,” Prompto reiterates.

“I do,” Ravus nods.

“May I cut in?” Gladio asks, startling the two of them.

“Of course,” Ravus says, sounding like it’s the last thing he wants to do. “Thank you for the dance, Prompto.”

“You, too,” Prompto nods, letting himself be pulled into Gladio’s arms.

“Hey,” Gladio says, an unsure smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Prompto says up to him, eyebrows pulled in disbelief. “Why do you think Ravus is trying to, like, corrupt me or whatever? He’s perfectly fine.”

“He wasn’t, actually, last time I checked,” Gladio says, glaring at the foreign Prince’s back as he converses with his sister. “He was a jerk back in Tenebrae.”

“Fifteen years ago?” Prompto chuckles. “You were probably a jerk then, too. You guys were kids.”

“Yeah, well,” Gladio huffs. “I stand by it.”

Gladio isn’t as graceful on his feet as Ravus, but the feeling of being swept around by him is _completely_ different. It’s exhilarating and fun, unpredictable when Gladio missteps and embarrassing when Gladio lifts him on turns, depositing him on the floor unsteadily and catching him before he falls.

“Are you guys… interested in each other?” Gladio asks, suddenly.

“Huh?” Prompto blinks, caught off-guard. “N-no, well… Ravus is. But I’m- I’m not there. We’re gonna try out being friends.”

“I didn’t like how he was pawing you at the movie,” Gladio says, his eyes intense. “If he’s being inappropriate, you’ll tell me, right?”

“Pretty sure it’d be a bad look for you to start something with the Prince of Tenebrae,” Prompto tries to joke. Gladio is having none of it.

“I don’t care,” Gladio says, serious. “I’m not going to let it happen.”

“Why?” Prompto asks, a little breathless under Gladio’s firm grip and his firm resolve.

“I just don’t like it,” Gladio says, as if that’s any explanation whatsoever.

Before they can discuss it any further, there is a clinking of a fork against a glass that begins to echo through the restaurant as the music fades.

Gladio stops their dance, but keeps his broad hand at Prompto’s lower back as they turn to give attention to Noctis and Lunafreya, standing together at the microphone in front of the band.

“Thank you, everyone,” Luna says, a wide smile on her soft face. “We are so glad you all could join us to announce our formal engagement.”

“It’s been a long time coming,” Noctis laughs, and so does the crowd, all having anticipated this moment since the two of them were eight and twelve years old. “But we are finally here. Enjoy the rest of your evening, and thank you all once again for celebrating the coming union of our families. I want to add that regardless of Luna’s or my status, I think we would have found each other. What I did to be so lucky, I’ll never understand.” Noct raises his glass to her, and she blushes shyly, clinking hers to his.

The gathered crowd claps, and Prompto feels his heart tug with the pride for, and envy of, his two friends who are so clearly in love. He feels a little misty over it.

“Now, when are you going to be giving such a lovely speech?” A voice asks from Gladio’s left. It’s Gladio’s father, Clarus, and the sudden appearance startles Gladio’s hand from Prompto’s back.

“Dad,” Gladio says, exasperated. “Keep it down.”

“You’re always so uncomfortable with this discussion Gladiolus,” Clarus chuckles. “You’re not getting any younger, you know. Soon, there’ll be little Royals that will need a shield. It won’t do for them to have sworn protectors that are years younger than them.”

Prompto is pretty sure he needs to skedaddle before he gets roped into this highly uncomfortable discussion, and he searches around to try to develop an exit strategy, hoping against hope that he’ll catch the eye of someone he knows so that he can excuse himself.

“What about this Aranea?” Clarus asks. “I’ve yet to meet her, but it’s a miracle that you mentioned her to me at all. Must be someone special.”

“You found out about her because you caught us shopping downtown,” Gladio blinks at his father. “I’m not sure she’s serious at all. I’m not sure I am.”

“Prompto, can you help me talk some sense into my boy?” Clarus grins, dragging Prompto metaphorically kicking and screaming into the conflict.

“Dad!” Gladio raises his voice a little, careful not to draw too much unnecessary attention. “Enough. Don’t get him involved in our family drama.”

Clarus’s face is momentarily thunderous, until he breaks out into a laugh that booms across the noisy dance floor. “That’s my boy, sow your wild oats while you can. Don’t tell your mother I said that. You’re so much fun to tease, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, Dad,” Gladio sighs. “Get outta here. Or I _will_ tell mom.”

“I’m gone,” Clarus chuckles and makes his way back to the King.

“Sorry about that,” Gladio says to Prompto, returning his hand to the small of Prompto’s back. “Dad is insufferable when it comes to the whole marriage thing. He likes to pretend it’s all jokes but I can tell he’s getting pressure from Mom.”

“It’s no biggie,” Prompto laughs, uncomfortably. “I’m glad I’m not in the same boat with my dad. I’m not even at the starting line… I’m like, in the bleachers. Waiting to make the team.”

“Why’s that?” Gladio asks, leading them back to their table.

“Heh,” Prompto shivers, scratching the back of his head again. “Just not good at taking chances, you know?”

“Hmm,” Gladio hums, folding his arms as he sits. “Same. I always tend to do the safe thing, despite how I look.”

_What does that mean?_ Prompto wonders. Gladio has always dated. On and off. He’s dating right now.

“Hey, actually,” Gladio says, suddenly, “You wanna grab some drinks and go out on the balcony? It looks deserted out there.”

“Probably because it’s cold,” Prompto laughs, looking out at it.

“Ah, we can huddle together for warmth,” Gladio grins, and it sets Prompto’s pulse to overdrive. “C’mon, there isn’t a line at the bar for once.”

They grab their drinks - a Rum and Cola for Gladio, a Galdin Margarita for Prompto - and make their way surreptitiously over to the sliding door that leads outside. The wind blasts them as they step out the door, high up on the fifteenth floor, and they glance around to see if any of their friends are around, or possibly older dignitaries that they should steer clear of.

They’re simultaneously surprised _and_ unruffled to find Ignis pressing Ardyn up against the brick wall just out of sight of anyone from indoors, their lips tangled and warm breath fogging up the air around them.

Carefully, Gladio eases them backward, as though he were leading them both through an infiltration mission, and they return silently inside.

“Those two really wanna push the boundaries of what Regis will deal with,” Gladio chuckles.

“Ah, good for them,” Prompto laughs, waving a hand. “Wish I had half their nerve.”

“Yeah,” Gladio nods, a strange look on his face that Prompto can’t place.

“Prompto,” Cor approaches them, shrugging on his jacket. “I’m going to take Monica home - she seems under the weather.”

“Oh, sure,” Prompto says, a little disappointed that he has to pack it in already. He looks down at his drink and back at Gladio. “Uh, you wanna drink this, so it doesn’t go to waste?”

“I can just take you home later,” Gladio says, both to Prompto and to Cor. “This is my last drink, sir. I’ll be sober when we leave.”

“I appreciate it, Gladio,” Cor says, knowing he can trust the Amicitia scion with his son’s life. “See you in the morning, Prompto? I expect you’ll be out late.”

“Yeah, probably,” Prompto nods. “G’night, Dad.”

Cor nods to the two of them and heads for the door.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Prompto says to Gladio. “I could’ve just gone home.”

“Prom,” Gladio says down to him, a little amused, his thick eyebrow quirked up. “Your dad is totally trying to hook up. Monica looks fine to me.”

“Wha-” Prompto sputters, gaping, and turns to scan the crowd for them both. Sure enough, Monica is smiling and laughing as Cor puts a coat over her shoulders. “Oh my god. Ugh.”

“Looks like everyone’s getting some tonight,” Gladio laughs.

“Stop! Stop!!!” Prompto says, lightly punching Gladio’s chest. Gladio catches the hand and grips it tight, trying not to spill either of their drinks in the process of pulling Prompto closer.

“Maybe you’d better come stay at my place tonight,” Gladio suggests, leaning down close to Prompto’s ear, “So you don’t have to hear them goin’ at it.”

“We are no longer friends, Gladiolus Amicitia!” Prompto gasps, trying to pull his hand out of Gladio’s vice-grip. “Let go of me.”

“I’m kidding, of course,” Gladio says, loosening his grasp. “They’re probably back at Monica’s so that you won’t interrupt them.”

“I’m walking away from you now,” Prompto tosses over his shoulder, going to look for his _real_ best friend, the one who would never betray him this way.

“Prom, come back,” Gladio laughs, following him. Prompto allows it. But only barely. It’s helped by Gladio throwing his arm back across Prompto’s shoulders telling him: “I’m glad we get a little more time together.”

~~~

The older guests file out at about eleven, even Regis. It’s not until about one in the morning that the younger folks are starting to dwindle out. Knowing that Noct and Luna can’t rightfully leave until all of their guests do, Gladio and Prompto start suggesting to the few people left that they should start heading home.

“Hey, thanks guys,” Noct says, his arm affectionately around Luna’s waist. “Usually Iggy gets everyone to head home. But. Well. You know.”

“They took off?” Gladio says, smirking. “It’s cool. Prom and I handled it. You guys head out. Your dad already paid for everything and these chuckleheads can make it home whenever they figure out the party’s dead.”

“Prompto, do you have a ride home?” Luna asks. “I saw your father leaving with Ms. Elshett earlier.”

“Ye-yeah, Gladio’s got me,” Prompto says quickly, hoping it will derail any lewd comments Gladio might want to make about his dad.

“Goodnight, then! Thank you so much for celebrating with us,” Luna smiles, and draws them both into a hug, a quick peck to each of their cheeks.

“Night, Princesses,” Gladio grins, and Noct throws a weak punch at his stomach. “Oof.”

“Get him home safe, you big idiot,” Noctis says, putting his coat around Luna’s shoulders. “G’night.”

“Ready?” Gladio asks, after they make one last round to ensure that they’ve gotten to all of the remaining guests. “It looks like there’s only a couple stragglers left. Let’s head out.”

“Yeah,” Prompto sighs. “I’m getting tired.”

They catch the next elevator and ride down to ground level, searching for Gladio’s truck in the car park. Luckily his is one of the few vehicles left on their level, and they pile inside in a hurry, the approaching winter chill now near freezing in the dead of night.

“Shit,” Gladio grumbles, throwing on the heater. “I should’ve brought a better coat. This thing is stiff but it’s not warm at all.”

“Same,” Prompto shivers, rubbing his hands up and down his arms.

“Scoot over and sit close,” Gladio says, urging him under his arm. “I can drive one-handed.”

“O-okay,” Prompto says, and pushes his way across the massive seat to lean into Gladio.

The drive is a little long from the restaurant, and Prompto warms fast under Gladio’s arm with the heater blasting in his face. He nods off a bit. Before he knows it, they’re coming to a hard stop in front of his house and he’s blinking awake.

“Sorry,” He laughs, lightly, extracting himself from under Gladio’s arm.

“No problem,” Gladio says, tucking that loose strand of hair behind his ear again. “We gonna see each other again soon?”

Prompto’s heart is fluttering. This whole thing is like the end of a date or something. It’s… confusing. Gladio _isn’t_ like this with the other guys, and they’ve known each other longer. But if this isn’t romantic, then what the hell is it? Prompto wishes he had the guts to just _ask_.

“Yeah, I can probably fit you in somewhere in my schedule,” Prompto says, for lack of any courage whatsoever.

“Good,” Gladio answers, and it’s with an expression that Prompto cannot read. His warm brown eyes flicker back and forth between Prompto’s, and his mouth is set in a straight line, no hints of his earlier humor.

Suddenly, the larger man straightens his posture and grips the wheel in both hands.

“‘Night,” Gladio says, nodding him off.

“G’night,” Prompto answers, thoroughly uncertain of literally anything. He climbs out of the truck and makes his way to the house, wanting desperately to look back but afraid that it’ll seem needy if he does. He unlocks the door and spares one last glance as he makes his way inside, Gladio’s truck still waiting until he’s safely inside.

He hears the sound of the truck take off once the door is closed, and backs against it, sliding down the surface a little as he groans with frustration. After a moment, he shucks off his shoes and jacket, tucking them to the side to deal with in the morning. 

Tossing himself onto his bed, he shoves his face into his pillow and screams into it, letting out all of his twisted up feelings. It’s not much later that he falls asleep, exhausted, still in his dress clothes and thrown diagonally across his mattress.


	5. The Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto needs a date to attend the Royal Wedding. Noct has a suggestion. Gladio has another.

**NLC:** hey dude  
 **NLC:** can we meet up tonight?  
 **NLC:** got something i wanna talk 2 u about  
 **PL:** yeah, of course, buddy  
 **PL:** i’m out of work at 6  
 **PL:** wanna go out to dinner?  
 **NLC:** perfect  
 **NLC:** i’m buying  
 **PL:** you don’t have to do that  
 **NLC:** yeah, i probably do  
 **NLC:** trust me

~~~

They meet up at a burger joint around the corner from the bookshop and Noct refuses to talk about the reason that they’ve gotten together until they’ve ordered and settled. Prompto can’t help the vague feeling of unease settling in his gut. He’s _never_ liked being strung along with “we have to talk”s. He’s honestly not very hungry with the nausea squirming around in his belly. Still, he orders his usual, along with a milkshake that Noct _insists_ on.

“So,” Noct begins, after taking a few bites of his burger, “I have some bad news.”

_Oh gods,_ Prompto thinks. _He’s breaking off our friendship. I haven’t been spending enough time with him. I’ve been so wrapped up in Gladio that I-_

“Because of Royal Bullshit, you can’t be my Best Man,” Noct says, an apologetic look in his furrowed eyebrows. “It’s gotta be Ignis. But, like, if I had the choice-”

“Oh, no, no,” Prompto breathes a sigh of relief, waving Noct’s concern away with both hands. “That’s - that’s _fine_ with me, really! I couldn’t handle that kind of attention. I get it, dude. Iggy should be your Best Man! You guys have known each other since you were tiny.”

“Yeah, well,” Noct laughs, shrugging. “I love Ignis, but it’d still be _you_ if it was up to me.”

“As long as I get an invite, I’m totally cool,” Prompto smiles.

“Yeah, about that…” Noct sighs, pushing his bangs out of his face. “You, uh, you gotta be someone’s _plus one_. Again, because of Royal Bullshit. Only nobles are allowed to Royal weddings, unless they’re specifically escorted by a noble. I really hate this, dude, honestly.”

“No, dude, I get it,” Prompto again emphatically waves off the concern. “Whatever gets me in the door.”

“Luna had this idea,” Noct says, putting down his food. “That maybe you could go with Ravus? He’s single, and you guys had fun the other night at the movie, right? Luna said Ravus couldn’t stop talking about how funny and cool you are, and maybe…”

“Uh,” Prompto swears he can hear an air horn blasting in his head, warning him of the danger of this line of Noct’s thoughts. “Yeah, Ravus is a cool guy. We both really dig the ECU. If he’s cool with going as friends, yeah, I’m definitely down.”

“Oh,” Noct says, a little down. “So you don’t _like_ -”

“No, no,” Prompto shakes his head. “He’s cool. Just… not like, my type?”

“Who is, though?” Noct laughs. “You never point anyone out to me. Maybe you’re not, like, into dating? I mean, sorry if I’ve been a jerk all this time-”

“That’s not it, I’m attracted to someone, I mean, people… I just… look, I’m a hot mess, Noct, haha.”

“Well, anyway,” Noct mercifully pulls them off the uncomfortable topic. “If you’re cool with it, Luna will set it up and we’ll be able to solidify the place settings.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Prompto nods. “Like I said, I gotta get to the biggest wedding of the century. If I miss you crying when you see Luna in her dress I’ll fling myself off The Wall.”

“Dramatic,” Noct laughs. “I’m not gonna cry.”

“Whatever, dude, you cried at the Justice Monsters movie,” Prompto scoffs.

“You did, _too_!”

“Of course I did, I’m only human!” Prompto says, defending himself. They both burst into laughter and have to wipe away tears of _mirth_.

“Glad that’s set, then,” Noct says. “I couldn’t do it without you there. It’d kill me.”

“Ever at your side, buddy,” Prompto grins.

~~~

**G_A:** Hey, what’s this about you going with Ravus to Noct’s wedding?  
 **PL:** um  
 **PL:** i’m going with ravus to noct’s wedding  
 **PL:** ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌  
 **G_A:** I thought we talked about how maybe you should be careful with him.  
 **PL:** yo  
 **PL:** gladio  
 **PL:** big guy  
 **PL:** i really appreciate you being concerned  
 **PL:** but i also really *can take care of myself*  
 **G_A:** Look, just come with *me*.

_Huh,_ Prompto can definitely hear those danger sirens again.

**PL:** what about aranea?  
 **G_A:** What about her.  
 **G_A:** She didn’t wanna come to the engagement, you think she’s gonna come to the wedding?  
 **G_A:** I wasn’t bullshitting my dad, you know.  
 **G_A:** We’re having fun but like…  
 **G_A:** She doesn’t really like being part of a big group.  
 **G_A:** It’s kind of a pain to get her to join us on group outings.  
 **G_A:** I don’t think she’s that serious about us, and I’m not really either.  
 **PL:** ok ok i get it

Prompto’s head is spinning. He _wants_ to go with Gladio. He _doesn’t_ want to hurt Ravus’s feelings. He’s already made a commitment to go with Ravus, and it would probably upset Noct and Luna’s seating chart thingy. He feels like his brain is short-circuiting.

**PL:** but i already said i’d go with ravus  
 **PL:** i don’t wanna make waves  
 **G_A:** I’ll take care of it, Prom.  
 **PL:** ok (￣^￣)ゞ

~~~

**RNF:** I assure you that if you’d come with me to the nuptials, I wouldn’t have been inappropriate.  
 **RNF:** I am not an imbecile. I get that you’re not interested in me romantically.  
 **RNF:** I thought we had come to an understanding.  
 **RNF:** Or perhaps Gladio’s childish dislike of me has led you to reconsider.  
 **PL:** no, no  
 **PL:** ugh  
 **PL:** i knew this would happen  
 **PL:** i’m not like ‘afraid’ to go with you or anything  
 **PL:** just  
 **PL:** gladio wants me to go with him and…  
 **PL:** and i’m an idiot  
 **PL:** it’s nothing to do with you  
 **RNF:** You know he hasn’t asked you as a prospective romantic partner.  
 **PL:** i know ravus  
 **PL:** you weren’t going to either so what’s the difference  
 **RNF:** You know what the difference is.  
 **RNF:** Don’t expect sympathy from me when you feel worse than you already do when all is said and done.  
 **PL:** i’ll be sure to remember

~~~

Prompto is cooking dinner when Cor returns home from work. His dad is looking run down, surely from all of the wedding preparations and the extra trouble of the new contingent of Crownsguard trainees that are about to be inducted fully into the ‘Guard.

“Hey Dad,” Prompto calls. “Go ahead and relax, dinner’s almost ready.”

“You’re a good kid, have I ever told you that?” Cor says fondly as he tosses their mail onto the hall side table.

“Only like, every three minutes via text,” Prompto grins. “Rough day again?”

“I don’t think I will ever be able to sit in my office quietly while I go over paperwork _again_ ,” Cor sighs, hanging his coat and kicking off his shoes. “I’ve talked to just about every single senior officer in the entire ‘Guard over the last week or so. As well as their trainees. And Gladio _will not_ stop harping on the extra measures for the wedding.”

Prompto’s pulse quickens with the mention of Gladio’s name, and he spills a little sauce from the pan as he stirs.

“I can’t speak for the senior officers,” Prompto says, checking the oven. “But I know Gladio is just worried.”

“Yes, I know,” Cor answers, coming into the kitchen, clearly noticing via the extraordinary smells that the meal is almost ready. “He’s the only one of them that I can hold my patience with. I heard he’s the one taking you to the wedding. That was really kind of him to offer.”

“Y-yeah,” Prompto stutters, shaky as he assembles the final ingredients for the pasta recipe. “Gladio’s great.”

“He is,” Cor agrees. “You two have grown quite close this past year.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Prompto nods, dumping the noodles into the colander in the sink, not looking his father in the eye. “Our schedules match up pretty nicely, and we’re both single - well, he _was_ until recently.”

“I see,” Cor says. “Was ‘recently’ last Friday night?”

Prompto quivers as he sets the empty pot in on the counter. Even if Gladio says that he and Aranea aren’t serious, Prompto knows that it’s just a matter of time until he finds someone who _is_. Cor’s inquiry causes him to feel the sting of seeing her there, touching Gladio the way Prompto wants to.

“Yeah,” Prompto answers, wetly. He doesn’t want to cry again. It’s not really worth it. He’ll live through this disappointment. But somehow, when his dad asks - _really_ wants to know what’s bothering him - all the tangled up twine inside him unravels and he lets loose the waterworks.

“Prompto,” Cor puts a hand on his shoulder and draws him in for a hug. “Gladio is a fine young man. But if this is going to hurt you, you should probably try to find another solution to getting into Noct’s wedding.”

“I want to go with him, Dad,” Prompto confesses, tears leaking through his voice.

“I’ll be here to help if you need it,” Cor says, petting back Prompto’s cowlick. “And I can make sure that Gladio will get three months of early morning shifts, if he manages to make things worse for you.”

Prompto cackles against his dad’s chest, sniffling. “Not fair making me laugh when I’m crying.”

“I’m not joking,” Cor smiles down at him, betraying his own words. “Maybe I’ll give him some latrine duty, as well.”

“Stop!” Prompto laughs. “He’ll be so confused about what he did to make you angry!”

“Good, let him think a while,” Cor chuckles. “Maybe then he’ll be able to figure out how wonderful you are, and what he’s missing out on.”

“Stopppp,” Prompto insists, covering his face. “You’re such a sap!”

“Can’t help it,” Cor says, matter-of-fact. “I’m not going to let some meathead mess up my son’s heart. Especially when I hold a position of authority over him and therefore can terrorize him.”

“ _You’re_ messed up, Dad,” Prompto pushes his arm, and of course Cor doesn’t move an inch. “Let’s eat before this turns to mush.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dad Cor is best Cor. He might be Prompto's dad in the rest of my fics forever. XD


	6. A Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea happens upon Prompto at work and they have a chat during his break. Gladio invites Prompto out for the evening.

The bookshop is slow for a Saturday afternoon, and Prompto is contemplating how to split up his shift with his break when the bell on the door dings and Aranea walks inside. He blinks for a second and then greets her as he’s supposed to greet every customer that walks in.

“Welcome,” Prompto says, awkwardly.

“Heya, squirt,” Aranea’s face splits into that sharp grin. “Look at you in your little green polo and name tag. You’re making me seriously consider getting myself a little boy toy.”

Prompto blushes and stammers for a moment, until Aranea chuckles.

“Easy there, kiddo, I don’t mean you,” She pats him on the shoulder. “I think Gladio might take issue with me sinking my claws into _you_.”

_What’s that supposed to mean?_ Prompto wonders, panicking.

“Maybe that little twink over there,” She points to Loqi, Prompto’s co-worker, coming back from his break. “He looks… pliable.”

“He’s more stubborn than he _looks_ ,” Prompto scoffs.

“Good,” Aranea purrs. “I’ll enjoy breaking him in.”

When Prompto can only open and close his mouth like a gasping fish, Aranea laughs again.

“You’re fun,” She says. “I can’t get these kinds of reactions from Gladio. You got a break coming to you?”

“Yeah, he does,” Loqi says, his expression barely containing his interest in Aranea as he returns to the registers. “You’re up, Prom.”

“Thanks, Lo,” Prompto says, tucking his headset and radio under the counter until he returns. “I get free drinks, want something?”

“Ah, you’ve got the hook-up,” Aranea grins. “Excellent.”

They settle at one of the cafe tables with their coffees, steaming out of Aranea’s cup, ice clinking in Prompto’s. Prompto leans casually back in his chair and crosses his legs as he starts the timer on his phone so that he doesn’t go over his allotted break time. Aranea simply smiles back at him with a strangely _knowing_ look, as though she can read the discomfort in his mind. 

“So I hear you’re heading off to the Royal wedding with Gladio.”

Prompto chokes on his drink a little, the proclamation coming the moment he’s begun to suck the fluid through his straw.

“Uh, yeah-” He coughs.

“No worries,” Aranea holds up a hand, her nails blood red and pointed. Prompto swallows. “You’re helping me dodge a bullet, honestly. And really, I could use some advice from you on how to… let Gladio down gently. I’ve never done it before. But for once I don’t wanna completely ditch the guy. He’s fun, but I’m just kinda… not into _that_ anymore, if you know what I mean.”

Prompto has _no_ idea what she means. The sentiment, that is. He understands the words. He _wishes_ he knew what she _meant_. Then maybe he could get his damned heart under control.

“I mean, he’s good for a laugh and I wouldn’t mind doing a group hang every now and again - even if the only ones that are my kind of people are Gladio, you and that Ardyn guy - so I wanna try not to like, devastate him.”

“Gladio’s tough,” Prompto shrugs. “I’ve never seen him heartbroken. Though it might be good for him.”

Aranea grins. “Yeah, I like you. Platonically, mind you. I think if we got together I might crush you. Body and mind.”

Prompto can’t ignore the little thrill in his stomach from her words, but really he’s more preoccupied with being crushed by _Gladio_ to find any real interest.

“Prompto,” Ravus says, approaching their table. “How are you?”

_A little bombarded_ Prompto thinks. It’s surprising that Ravus would even want to speak with him after their text chain the other day.

“Hey, Ravus,” Prompto nods in greeting. “I’m, well... I’m on break at _work_ , but otherwise good. How’re you?”

“I’m well,” Ravus answers, his gaze sliding over to Aranea with suspicion. “We met, briefly, at the theater and diner. I’m-”

“I know who you are, Princey,” Aranea grins. “Guess I didn’t make enough of an impression, though. Aranea.” She holds out a hand to Ravus, who takes it and shakes it gently.

“I’ll remember, this time,” Ravus promises her. “Sorry to have interrupted your conversation.”

“No worries, Ravus,” Prompto waves his hand, dismissing the concern.

The alarm on Prompto’s phone goes off in his pocket, and he rushes to silence it.

“That’s all you get for a break?” Aranea scoffs. “Rough. I’m going to head out. Can I walk you back to your station, squirt?”

“Uh, if you want,” Prompto chuckles. “Think I can find my way on my own, though.”

“It was a pleasure seeing you both again,” Ravus says, cordially. “I have to find a particular volume for a class project.”

“I can help you with that, let me just go back and get my radio,” Prompto says as he rises from his chair.

The three of them walk back to the center of the store to find Gladio talking to Loqi. Loqi looks back at Prompto with an incredulous expression as he returns with one more person than he left.

“Prom,” Gladio says, and then blinks at Aranea and bristles at Ravus. “Hey, guys.” Returning his attention to Prompto, he adds, “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d see if you got a break.”

“Just took it,” Prompto says, apologetically, as he makes his way behind the registers to grab his radio and log into the computer. “I’m helping Ravus find the book he needs.”

Loqi leans close to whisper to Prompto. “Dude, just how many smoking-hot people are in your life?”

Prompto doesn’t dignify that with an answer and instead puts his earpiece back in and clips the radio into his pocket while he brings the computer out of sleep and keys in his employee ID. “What book are you looking for?”

“Prompto,” Aranea says, drawing his attention away. “I’ll talk to you later. I’ll get this guy to give me your number.” She winks at him. Prompto wonders if that’s some kind of signal that she’s about to dump Gladio.

“Bye, Prom,” Gladio waves, letting Aranea take his arm and lead him out. “Talk later?”

“Definitely,” Prompto says, a grin tugging at his lips with an awkward wobble.

“She’s certainly… something,” Ravus comments. “I imagine it’s hard for you to dislike her.”

“Completely impossible, more like,” Prompto says with a sigh. “What’s the book?”

“Conversations with Solheim,” Ravus answers, clearly reading that Prompto doesn’t want to discuss Aranea or Gladio any further.

“Hey,” Loqi butts in, asking Prompto, “Is she like, with _you_? Or the huge guy?”

“Probably neither of us, soon,” Prompto mutters, typing into the search function. “What’s it matter, Lo?”

“I mean, you gotta lock someone like that down,” He answers. “What I wouldn’t give to have her… attention.”

“She would absolutely tear you in half,” Ravus remarks, grinning at Loqi. “And she would enjoy it.”

“I might let her,” Loqi shrugs. “You too, handsome.”

“Loqi,” Prompto hisses. “Ravus is the Prince of Tenebrae. You might wanna watch it.”

“He’s perfectly fine, Prompto,” Ravus raises an eyebrow, inspecting Loqi’s face. “Tell me: do you enjoy film and literature?”

~~~

**G_A:** Well, I was right.  
 **G_A:** She’s not really into it anymore, but she wants to be friends.  
 **G_A:** And honestly, that’s fine with me.  
 **PL:** sorry big guy (ｏ・_・)ノ”(ノ_<、)  
 **G_A:** No need to be sorry.  
 **G_A:** You busy?

Prompto chews on his thumb nail, folded up under a warm blanket on his sofa, watching a sci-fi anime. If Gladio wants to spend time together, he really has no desire to reject the idea, especially since now he’s re-un-attached. Even if ultimately it’s probably just going to make him feel worse afterward.

**PL:** no, i’m just chillin  
 **PL:** what do you wanna do?

~~~

The bar is kind of a dive, but it’s not even close to crowded. They can kind of just… hang out here without getting tossed around by bumping bodies. It is absolutely filled with cigarette smoke, though, and Prompto’s sure he’s going to gag at some point tonight.

“You hungry?” Gladio asks, as they plop down onto two bar stools.

“Only always,” Prompto says. “Dad thinks I’m never going to stop my growth spurt. Even if I maxed out on height by eighteen.”

“That’s fine,” Gladio says, ruffling his hair. “I like you this small. You’re easy to pick up. And just the right height for me to rest my arm on.”

“Happy to be of service,” Prompto sticks his tongue out and tries to fix his hair. “If you want to drink, I can drive. I know you had a rough day.”

“I do want to drink,” Gladio says. “But not because of Aranea. It’d be nice to be able to get tipsy. Usually I gotta be ready for anything.”

“Then be my guest,” Prompto gestures to the bar, just as the bartender approaches them.

They order some drinks - iced tea for Prompto - and some nachos and wings, while they chat for a while. Then they get the idea to play some darts, which Prompto wins, surprisingly. Gladio wants to play pool, but Prompto is absolutely terrible at it, so Gladio completely trounces him. The longer the night goes on, the more loose and carefree Gladio becomes, and his hands are _constantly_ on Prompto. It’s intoxicating in its own right. And Prompto realizes that by trying to be kind, he’s basically shot himself in the foot.

A song comes on the jukebox and Gladio asks if Prompto wants to dance. There’s only a few couples on the floor, but they’re having fun, and Prompto remembers what it was like at the engagement party.

He really should say no.

But of course he says, “Sure.”

They dance wildly for an upbeat jam, a little more raucous than the other patrons of the bar, but it doesn’t matter because it’s _fun_ to just not care what they think.

When the tempo of the next song changes drastically to a slow ballad, Prompto expects they’ll go back to their seats at the bar. Gladio pulls him by the wrist, back into the circle of his arms, and holds him tight as they sway slowly in time.

It’s less a dance and more of a hug that has a tiny bit of rhythm to it, but Prompto can’t care at all. The closeness, the warmth of his embrace and the scent of Gladio all around him is pure joy. He lets himself hold Gladio as tenderly as he wants to, and feels an all-over tingle when Gladio’s nose is buried in his blond hair. The enormous inhale fills Gladio’s firm chest, and the exhale ruffles Prompto’s hair.

It’s too much, and not quite _enough_.

“Get a fuckin’ room,” a voice from near the tables says just loud enough to be heard over the music.

Suddenly the tender moment is shattered when Gladio pulls away from Prompto, leaning toward the heckler with a menacing stance.

“What’d you just say?” Gladio fires back, indignant and aggressive.

“I said take your make-out session outta here,” The older man says, pulling off his worn cap from his head and tossing it down on the table in front of him as if he’s readying himself to square up to Gladio. The man probably weighs ninety pounds soaking wet, there’s no way he could stand a chance against the Royal Shield.

“We were _dancing_ , you idiot-”

“Gladio,” Prompto says, calm as he can despite the anxiety spiking in his chest. “Come on, he’s just an ass.”

Gladio stares daggers at the man, his heavy brows drawn angrily over his shadowed eyes. The other man doesn’t back down, but doesn’t advance either. Probably he’s figured out that he’d be outmatched.

“Gladio,” Prompto says again. “You’ve never hurt a citizen of Insomnia in your life. Come on, Big Guy.”

He reaches up to trace the half of Gladio’s scar that runs from under his eye to his jaw, bringing to mind just how far he’d go to not do violence to someone of the Crown City.

Gladio’s stance eases, almost as if he’s melting under the reminder.

“Why don’t we settle up and I’ll get you home?”

“Yeah, let’s,” Gladio nods, making his way to the bar with Prompto trailing in his wake. They close out their tab and retrieve Gladio’s credit card before making their way out of the bar and into the cold late-November night.

Prompto climbs up into the driver’s side of Gladio’s truck for the first time ever.

“It’s bigger than I remembered,” Prompto sighs, unsure if he’s going to be able to do this.

“That’s what you’ll be saying when we get back to my place,” Gladio says, laying back, his head hanging back against the top of the seat with his eyes closed. He’s absolutely hammered.

It doesn’t stop Prompto from flushing at his statement. “Wh-what?”

Gladio opens his eyes and blinks, recalling what he’d just said and scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m jokin’. Sorry. Fuuuuck, I haven’t been this drunk in a while. No filter.”

Prompto tries not to hold onto anything in his words except for the fact that he _is_ drunker than ever. But the fantasy of seeing Gladio in all his glory when they get back to his place is playing on repeat the whole drive over. Even though Prompto knows that would be _extremely_ morally objectionable and he wouldn’t do it.

By the time they arrive at Gladio’s building, Prompto has to nudge him awake to get the access code for the gate from him. Gladio sits up and rubs his face, gathering himself.

“776687,” He tells Prompto, and they’re in, pulling up to the fourth level of the car park and parking in his designated space.

They’re both sliding out of the cab when something occurs to Gladio. “Oh, shit, Prom. You gotta get home. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“No worries, Big Guy,” Prompto smiles, helping him to stand fully as they walk, by being the trusty perfect height for his arm as Gladio had claimed earlier. “It’s like twenty minutes to get home, I’ll be fine.”

“No way,” Gladio shakes his head. “Cor’ll have my head if you’re walkin’ home at… what time is it?”

“Two a.m.,” Prompto answers.

“Yeah, no fuckin’ way,” Gladio stops them and puts both hands on Prompto’s shoulders. “Come up and sleep on my couch. I’ll take you home in the morning when I’ve slept it off.”

“You sure?” Prompto says, a little hesitant. It will be the first time he’s ever spent the night.

“Yeah, definitely,” Gladio says, resuming their walk to the elevator. “Now come on, I’m exhausted and I need to drink a gallon of water.”

~~~

Gladio does in fact make his way directly to his refrigerator to get an enormous bottle of water after pointing out the hall closet to Prompto. Inside, he finds sheets and blankets among the shelves of towels and miscellaneous bathroom items.

“Take some pillows from my bed,” Gladio says, searching his cupboards for aspirin. “I’ve got like ten, I won’t miss em.”

Gladio’s room is so _grown up_. He’s got a wide, gorgeous bed with satin sheets, dark and enticing. The room is very minimalist, except for the huge bookshelf in the corner that is, quite frankly, overflowing. The picture window shows the lights of the city in a beautiful panorama. Thinking better of it, Prompto takes one last look and draws the dark curtain for Future Gladio before he nabs two of the many pillows off the bed.

Gladio is in the bathroom when Prompto comes back out to the main room, so he dutifully makes himself a bed with some sheets, two pillows and a blanket. Then, he wanders about Gladio’s place, checking out the art and photos that are hung on the walls. He rarely has time to look around when he comes over, generally busy with chatting and making snacks together and watching stuff.

With a little skip in his heart, he notices that a few of them are ones that Prompto has taken. One of the four guys, some of the Insomnian architecture, one of Ignis and Noct, and one of Gladio and himself.

It’s a photo that Prompto still has on his phone - he couldn’t bear to simply upload it to the cloud.

He’s held dear enough that he’s here, in Gladio’s home, all the time.

The door of the hallway bathroom opens and Gladio sort of stumbles out.

“I need to get into bed before I fall down,” He says, and then leads Prompto back to the sofa and pushes him down onto it, forcing him to lie down before covering him up and exaggeratingly pushing the blanket underneath his body to swaddle him.

“I should be tucking _you_ in, Big Guy,” Prompto laughs.

“Nah, I got this,” Gladio assures him, and kisses him on the forehead, as if it’s a routine thing he just _does_ to Prompto. “‘Night, Blondie.”

“Goodnight,” Prompto says, his entire body flushed. He is plunged into darkness as Gladio clicks off the lights and makes his way to his bedroom. The faint lights of the city drift inside behind the lighter curtains of the living area, and he stares up at the ceiling with his heart desperately galloping.


	7. Busy Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto wakes up at Gladio's place. The day does not go in any expected direction.

Prompto blinks awake to the sounds of clattering from the bathroom. He sits up and rubs his eyes free of sleep, rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck as he comes slowly back to life. It had been a long night of _trying_ to fall asleep, but of course how could he easily drift off to dreamland when Gladio had spontaneously kissed him? On the forehead. But still. Lips. Touched. Prompto’s skin.

He’s up and folding his bedding when the bathroom door opens and Gladio strides out - completely naked.

Getting an eyeful, Prompto squeaks in shock, and Gladio immediately tenses into a defensive stance before realizing that he’s not being attacked.

“Shit, Prom,” Gladio blinks, covering himself with a hand. “Sorry, I forgot you were here - I’ll get a towel.”

“No worries, dude, just a surprise,” Prompto says, having turned his head away.

“I _had_ to take a shower,” Gladio says from inside the steaming room. “My clothes, my hair - everything reeked of cigarette smoke.” He reappears with a towel slung low on his hips. As if what’s below _that_ is the biggest problem. _Well..._

“You wanna hop in? I’ll grab you a robe and run your clothes through the wash.”

“Oh,” Prompto blinks. “Sure, yeah.”

It might be a little awkward to be semi-naked in Gladio’s place, but he’d rather not smell like a smoke factory when he goes home.

“There’s already a towel in there,” Gladio indicates with his thumb. “I’ll come in and grab your clothes once you’re in the shower.”

“Okay,” Prompto makes his way past Gladio, still dripping a little from his hair, beads trailing down his impressive shoulders and past his pecs. Prompto thinks he might be taking that little detail home for later.

He strips and finds that Gladio has a rain shower. He thinks this just might be good payback for a night on the sofa - a long luxurious soak is just what he could use right about now.

After a minute under the spray, Gladio knocks on the door and Prompto tells him he can grab the clothes. The shower stall is partially frosted, obscuring the bottom half of the glass, leaving his chest exposed to Gladio’s gaze. He turns to grab the shampoo bottle, somewhat embarrassed despite the fact that they’ve been shirtless around each other before. Something about his body dripping with water makes it… different.

“I’ll get the washer started,” Gladio says, and closes the door behind him as he exits.

Another couple minutes go by and Prompto is just about ready to start soaping up, when Gladio knocks again.

“I kinda wanna brush my teeth, if that’s cool.”

“Yeah, go for it,” Prompto says, pushing his soaked hair out of his face. He turns his head up to let the warm water patter against his forehead, taking a deep, pleasurable breath as he lets the sound of the running water sweep over him. He wishes that there could be something so lavish at home. Not to mention that Gladio can run the washing machine and a shower at the same time with no ill effects to the temperature of the water.

Tipping his head back down, he sweeps both hands over his face, pushing the stream away so that he can blink his eyes open again.

He finds that Gladio is staring at him in the mirror while brushing his teeth. Their eyes meet for a moment, but Prompto drags his gaze away, shyly. He’s getting a little hard just from how relaxed he is and how absolutely gorgeous Gladio is just out of the shower, and how he wishes that the bigger guy would just come in and-

The stall door slides open, a cold breeze rushing into the foggy steam. Gladio stands there, towel dropped, before stepping inside.

“Wha-what’re you-” Prompto starts, shocked even as he’d only just imagined this exact scenario. Gladio’s palm slides against the column of his neck, back to the nape, drawing him forward.

Prompto closes his eyes and shivers, expecting their mouths to meet.

When nothing happens, he opens them again, and finds Gladio bent forward, looking like he’s waiting for permission.

It takes less than half a second for Prompto to rise up to his toes and close the distance, their mouths meeting hotly as the water slips down the both of them.

It’s more than Prompto has ever imagined, alone at night, aching for Gladio’s touch. Gladio’s lips are plush and the top one is rough with stubble. His kiss is generous and intense, and Prompto starts making needy little noises into it when Gladio’s hands slip slickly over his sides and down to his ass. Their pelvises collide and the heat of their mutual arousal causes them both to gasp into the other’s mouth.

“Prom,” Gladio gasps against him. “You feel so good.”

“You, too,” Prompto says, letting his own hands wander, over Gladio’s enormous pecs and down the peaks and valleys of his abdomen, back to _his_ firm and gloriously muscular backside.

“I wanna taste you,” Gladio says, lowering himself to the floor, pushing Prompto up against the wall to brace him there, safely. “Please?”

“Yes, please, gods,” Prompto wonders if he’s still asleep on Gladio’s couch, because this can’t possibly be real. It’s too good.

Prompto is so hard, so aching, and Gladio is teasing him by kissing and nipping at his thighs instead of going straight for the pulsing length of him. He can feel the whine released from his throat more than hear it, and Gladio’s puffs of laughter against his legs.

“Look at you,” Gladio says, a heaviness to his voice as he wraps a huge hand around Prompto’s cock. “I just want to be down here all damn day.”

Finally his mouth wraps around Prompto’s head, the heat and wet and softness overwhelming. Gladio draws more and more of him in, until the larger man’s nose is pressed to Prompto’s belly, the length of him sucked deep into Gladio’s mouth. The soft and spongy cradle of his throat convulses around Prompto’s tip, while Gladio’s tongue massages the vein on the underside.

The shower covers up Gladio’s sounds, but Prompto knows that he is moaning from the vibrations that force a groan from Prompto’s own throat.

Gladio draws Prompto’s right leg up and over his own shoulder, holding some of Prompto’s shaky weight, while his thick fingers slip swiftly to the cleft of his cheeks, searching for his entrance.

A brush over the pucker, and Prompto shudders.

“Gladio,” Prompto gasps, urgent and anxious. “Gladio, I’m gonna come-!”

With a wet pop, Gladio releases him, but replaces his mouth with his enormous hand.

“I want you to, Prom. Come for me,” Gladio dives right back in, taking Prompto to the root once again. 

With Gladio’s thumb digging into Prompto’s hip, he can’t thrust like he wants to, but it almost doesn’t matter, with how fiercely Gladio is forcing Prompto’s dick into the soft passage of his throat and the constant drag of a finger across his opening.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” Prompto babbles, as if Gladio’s given any indication that he _would_. It’s almost a surprise when the edge is suddenly there, just under him, and he tips over into orgasm, spilly hotly into Gladio’s mouth, the larger man sucking down every bit of it until Prompto’s shudders have subsided.

“Gorgeous,” Gladio says, his voice hoarse. “I knew it.”

Prompto is blinking, dazed, not sure he’s hearing anything correctly between the post-orgasm haze and the insistent sound of the water running. He’s honestly lucky he’s still standing.

He looks down at Gladio, still on his knees and kissing at Prompto’s belly, biting at the thigh still over his shoulder.

“Hey,” Prompto says, putting a hand under his chin. “What do _you_ want?”

“Mostly to work you up into a fervor again,” Gladio says against his stomach. “You were so fucking hot. I wanna watch you come over and over again.”

“I want to make you come, too,” Prompto says. “What can I do?”

Gladio shifts Prompto’s leg off of him and pulls Prompto down to straddle his thick thighs. Prompto can feel Gladio’s heavy erection pressed against his balls, arching toward his ass.

They kiss, soft and gentle for a moment before the sensation works them up again, and it becomes rougher and more urgent.

“Gladio,” Prompto says, pulling back, chiding him for not answering the question.

Gladio’s eyes move back and forth, focusing on each of Prompto’s, the answer hiding right there behind his teeth, but for some reason he’s unwilling to voice it.

“Do you wanna fuck me?” Prompto asks. “Because I want you to.”

Gladio groans, hauling Prompto back to his chest, pressing their mouths together. “I’ll be careful with you,” he promises.

“I know,” Prompto nods, brushing his lips over Gladio’s again and again.

“Grab the body wash from the shelf behind you.”

Prompto reaches up to the shelf just above his head, his hand slipping against the plastic for a moment before he gets a good grip on it. When he presents it to Gladio, the larger man takes it from his hand and squeezes some of the viscous liquid onto his fingers, balancing Prompto on his thighs and against the slightly chilled tile wall.

Gladio takes the initiative and presses two tentative fingers to Prompto’s hole, massaging and circling the bud until it relaxes, and then introduces the tip of his middle finger into the ring of muscle.

It feels strange, but the deeper the finger quests, the more excited Prompto becomes, an anticipation building like a tiny fire on kindling that will soon be a raging bonfire.

“More,” Prompto breathes against Gladio’s neck, and soon there is the stretch of another finger pressing in. The groan that slips from his mouth is long and from deep in his belly.

“Hey,” Gladio says, two fingers deep, _deep_ inside him. “Grab my cock.”

“Uh-huh,” Prompto says, distracted. With what little focus he can divert, he reaches between them and angles Gladio’s dick upward. It takes up most of his grip, and the soft skin protecting his glans is barely covering it now, the flushed pink head beading with precome.

“You sure you still want me inside you?” Gladio asks, sounding hesitant.

“Yes, yes, definitely,” Prompto begs.

“Let’s turn you around,” Gladio says, gently, his breath quick. “Let me see what I’m doing, so I can get you nice and open for me.”

It’s a little bit of a maneuver to get him facing the wall, with the way they’re tangled together, but they manage somehow and Prompto is panting as he takes yet _another_ finger to the knuckle.

Gladio makes strangled, approving noises from behind him, and they send surges of want straight to Prompto’s re-ignited passion.

“Good boy,” Gladio says, fucking Prompto with his long, blunt fingers. “Taking ‘em so well. Gonna get you nice and loose. Make sure it feels _so_ good for you.”

“Hahhh, Gladio-!” Prompto cries. “Please, just - just-”

“I’ve got you,” Gladio assures him. “Be patient.”

The fingers twist, push down and Prompto is gasping, his hoarse cries breaking in his throat as a wave of ecstasy crashes over him. Again, the fingers graze that spot, and his legs are trembling with the effort of keeping him up.

“Here, sit back slowly,” the fingers are gone, the hand placed gently on his lower back as he guides Prompto down.

The slick tip of Gladio’s cock settles against Prompto’s opening, hot and clearly coated in more body wash. A little pressure and the stretch widens, Prompto’s breath knocked from him in surprise at just how _different_ this feels in comparison to three whole fingers.

Gladio grunts, and Prompto tries to gasp, and with several slow and steady thrusts, finally Prompto’s backside is seated against Gladio’s lap again, and they’re completely joined as one. The union throbs in Prompto’s hole, both the immense stretch of his opening as well as the pulsing iron length of Gladio’s intrusion, but it’s a mix of sweet and ache that sparks in Prompto’s brain.

“Fuck, still so tight - you okay, Prom?”

“Yeah, yes,” Prompto says, arching back to lay his head against Gladio’s chest, blindly turning his head for a kiss, which Gladio obliges despite the awkward angle. “You’re really… ohhhh, I’m so full-”

“I gotta move now,” Gladio tells him, and Prompto nods desperately. “Here, lean forward, on your forearms, against the wall.”

Gladio moves him into position, Prompto barely able to comprehend the words, and then he’s _thrusting_ , shallowly until it feels natural, easy. Prompto can’t help but push back, Gladio’s forward thrust sliding his cock against that spot behind Prompto’s dick that makes him feel like he’s going to come every single time it’s grazed, and the build up gets worse and worse with each pass.

“Gladio,” Prompto gasps, his hips pistoning of their own accord. “I need - please-” He’s not even sure what the end of the sentence _is_ , but he needs it more than anything.

“Yeah, Prom,” Gladio replies, his voice low and dripping with desire, and then there’s fingers teasing his foreskin up and down over the head of his cock and he’s spurting again, hot and thick onto the tile wall and all over Gladio’s hand.

Prompto’s insides twitch around Gladio’s member, and there is a rough grunt from the larger man before his hips stutter and drive him deeper with a few final thrusts before there’s a warm pulse inside him.

Prompto feels split open, skewered, Gladio’s rapidly softening cock still lodged within him, as if the space he’d made for himself was now his home entirely.

Prompto doesn’t really mind. It’s still all so unreal, the aftershocks of his orgasm still fizzling and popping in his nerves.

“Wow,” Gladio breathes, and then the fullness is replaced with absolute void, Gladio’s spend oozing out of him and down his thighs. “I need a minute, but then I’ll clean you up. Come here.”

Gladio’s laying against the wall just under the taps, beckoning Prompto over to him. With shaky legs, Prompto turns and falls against the larger man, both of them trying to calm their breathing and regain the feeling in their legs as the shower continues to rain down on them, keeping them warm.

~~~

After the shower, it’s the kitchen.

Gladio stands at the range, cooking some eggs while the toaster blazes its contents browned. The tilt of the larger man’s hips, and the cling of his loose lounge pants around the firm, pert globes of his impressive backside boil low in Prompto’s loins. With a courage he is sure is simply from Gladio having fucked it into him, Prompto slips off of the bar stool and kneels on the floor at Gladio’s feet.

“What’re you doing?” Gladio smiles down at him, an eyebrow raised.

Prompto doesn’t answer, just tugs at his hips to turn Gladio toward him and then pulls a little more insistently on the soft fabric keeping Gladio’s exquisite body from Prompto’s eyes and mouth.

Gladio’s eyes darken with lust, and he has the mental capacity to flip the burner off before grabbing both the nearby counter and the kitchen island when Prompto gets the pants down past his knees to pool at the floor.

That’s all it takes to get his cock to fill just slightly, and Prompto lets his hands roam up Gladio’s thick thighs to his well-defined hips. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the spot just under Gladio’s navel, a pleased groan rumbling in the bigger man’s chest.

Prompto trails his wet lips down, over the now rapidly swelling member at the juncture of his legs, humming contentedly when he holds it in a firm grip and takes the bulbous head in his mouth.

There’s a sweaty hand in his hair, cradling the back of his head as he works his jaw open as far as he can and takes Gladio in until the head bumps against the back of his throat. It’s not much, but he’s new at this, and he tries his best to make his mouth wet while he teases his tongue around what he can reach, all while bobbing as far forward as he can.

“So good,” Gladio moans, and Prompto lets his eyes flutter open, looking up to see the intense emotion on Gladio’s face. “Fuck, those pretty eyes, they’re gonna be the death of me.”

Prompto moans pitifully around his full mouth, the compliment lodging itself deep inside his chest. He’d do this _every day_ to get sweet words like that out of Gladio. He doesn’t care if that makes him pathetic. It’s all he wants.

“Gonna let me come down your throat?” Gladio asks, his breathing heavy.

“Mmff,” Prompto tries to nod as he continues to surge forward and back, saliva dripping plentifully as he relaxes his jaw to make as much room as he can. His thumb teases at the underside of the remaining length of Gladio’s cock.

There’s a bitter tang on his tongue, and Prompto sucks in a sharp, joyful breath through his nose. Gladio’s close. He’s going to make Gladio come in his mouth. He’s going to swallow it _all_.

“Getting close, Blondie,” Gladio says, his hands returning to grip the countertops. “Fuck, you’re so fucking good. So eager. I’m gonna-”

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything else, his words cut off with a rough shout as he rocks his hips forward, Prompto’s hand keeping him from driving into Prompto’s mouth too hard. The rush of come into his mouth is a bit of a surprise, or rather, how it doesn’t go straight down his throat, dripping free of his lips with his inattention. He takes what he can, though, his tongue slipping wildly around the tip of Gladio’s cock as it spurts hotly against the eager muscle.

Gladio sags, just barely holding himself up. Prompto pulls away from his softening dick, wiping the mess from his face with the sleeve of Gladio’s robe.

“Fucking Six,” Gladio pants, shaking his head free of the delirium of orgasm. “Well, I have a lot of repayment to make up.”

Prompto grins from the floor, pleased with himself. “Don’t worry about it, Big Guy.”

“Not worried,” Gladio smirks. “Pretty sure I can get it done.”

“I didn’t mean-” Prompto begins, but he’s being hauled up to his feet and then suddenly on top of the island, laid down and the robe opened and his legs hauled up and over Gladio’s shoulders. “Whoa!”

Gladio’s face disappears between his legs, and the hot wet swipe of tongue across his opening surges in Prompto’s pelvis, his already hard dick twitching with the attention just below it.

“Oh, fuck,” Prompto gasps, the sensation foreign but _impossibly_ pleasurable for how eagerly Gladio is going about it. There’s such a flurry of motion from his tongue that it’s hard to parse just what he’s doing down there, but it’s all so good that Prompto’s cock is leaking.

The moment Gladio’s tongue _enters_ him, Prompto’s back arches and his hips stutter forward, a shout of pure pleasure escaping him before he knows he’s making it.

“Gladio,” Prompto begs. “Gladio, please!”

Gladio doesn’t move away from Prompto’s ass to respond. That ridiculously powerful and wet tongue just keeps spearing him over and over, teasing over the rim in a quick swoop before delving back inside.

“Fuck,” Prompto whimpers, desperate for attention on his cock, and he is forced to grip it himself, to fuck his own hand while Gladio insistently fucks his ass with his hungry mouth.

Prompto’s hips begin to rock of their own accord, he can’t stop them even if he had wanted to.

Suddenly, Gladio’s hand wraps around his own, a huge thumb teasing his leaking tip, and Prompto is shooting, hard and hot, up and across his belly and chest with an absolute scream breaking from him.

Finally Gladio emerges, his hand now coated in come and splayed across Prompto’s belly, rising and falling with his heaving breaths.

“Hmm,” Gladio grins down at him, an arrogant tilt of his mouth that Prompto unfortunately _loves_. “I think you owe me some change, baby.”

“I’ll have to get it to you later,” Prompto pants, laughing through the harshness of his breathing. “Don’t think I’ll be able to stand under my own power for a while.”

“Lemme help you back to your seat,” Gladio says, picking him easily off the island and carrying him back to the barstool, offering him a damp washcloth to wipe himself up.

After the cleanup, they eat their eggs, a little burnt but mostly buttery and delicious.

~~~

“Fuck, fuck,” Gladio grunts, pounding into Prompto, his legs thrown over Gladio’s left shoulder. “Should’ve done this a long time ago.”

“Yes,” Prompto gasps. “Ah, gods, there, there!”

“Mmm,” Gladio moans and Prompto feels like he’s about to fly apart if Gladio could only just keep hitting that spot again and again and-

“Ah~!” He shouts, brokenly and exhausted, his third orgasm in the past half hour. He’s not even sure he produced any come, this time, but it hardly matters when Gladio’s building him up to another.

 _How the fuck is this possible?_ Prompto thinks, his hands tugging Gladio’s hair, begging for his mouth even though it’s sure to break his spine. He can’t care. He needs those lips and that tongue.

“Prom,” Gladio gasps against his mouth. “Gods, this feels so right. I never want to stop fucking you.”

“Don’t stop,” Prompto says, his toes curling as he feels the coil tightening in his gut again. “Gladio - I’m gonna - again-”

“Yeah, baby, do it,” Gladio grunts, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more erratic. “Come with me. I’m close, I’m right there, gonna spill, gonna make a mess in you-”

Prompto tries to arch, his wordless scream trapped in his chest as he’s pulled over once again. He feels the flood of come inside himself as Gladio reaches his peak again, his shout buried in the junction of Prompto’s neck and shoulder.

They well and truly collapse onto the bed, beyond spent, heaving breaths with effort.

“I’ll get a washcloth in a minute,” Gladio says, wiping his face with his hand. “Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever come this much in so little time.”

“I _know_ I haven’t,” Prompto laughs, tiredly.

“Alright,” Gladio says, rolling out of bed. “Be back in a sec. Then, a nap. I’m wrung out.”

“Sounds good,” Prompto nods, eyes drooping a little bit already.

~~~

Prompto wakes up, clean and settled against Gladio’s chest, to the sound of his phone trilling from the living room. Glancing up, he finds Gladio lightly snoring, deeply asleep and not the least bothered by the sound coming from the outer room. Carefully, he extracts himself, closing the door to Gladio’s bedroom as he leaves. Padding across the hardwood and the decorative rugs, he grabs his noisy phone from the coffee table.

It’s his dad. It’s also five in the evening. _Shit._

“Hey, Dad,” Prompto says as he answers.

“Are you alright?” Cor asks, his voice tight with worry.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how late it had gotten,” Prompto is half-afraid that his father has called for a Crownsguard unit to search the city for him.

“Where are you?” He is _furious_.

“I spent the night at Gladio’s-” Prompto grimaces, knowing how it will sound - exactly like what actually _happened_. “We got caught up in watching the Enix movies, you know how I wanted him to actually watch them in order.”

Cor sighs. “I hope that next time you will tell me where you plan to be and how long you plan to be there. I was worried sick.”

“I’m really sorry, Dad,” Prompto says, and it’s true. He hates to cause his father any distress. “I’ll come home now. We just finished up watching one of the movies so I can slip out easy.”

“I’ll have dinner ready when you arrive,” Cor says, and Prompto can picture him nodding on the other end of the line.

“Thanks,” Prompto says. “Sorry again.”

“It’s alright, Prompto. See you soon.”

Prompto looks back at Gladio’s bedroom, and decides not to wake him. He’s not exactly sure how awkward their goodbye might be.

The washer and dryer sit right outside the bathroom, and Prompto retrieves his clothes, folding Gladio’s neatly and placing them on top of the machine.

He shrugs everything back on and makes sure he has his wallet, phone and keys before tugging on his sneakers and slipping out of the apartment.

Luckily the night hasn’t gotten too chilled yet, and he jogs lightly home, making it inside with a slightly red face.

“He made you walk home?” Cor says, a little disappointed.

“No, no,” Prompto laughs. “I wanted to go for a run, I didn’t get to this morning. We slept in and then resumed the movies right away.”

“Alright,” Cor says, ladling out heaping scoops of pot roast and veggies into a bowl and handing it over to his son. “As long as I don’t have to give Gladio a talking-to on Monday.”

“It’s fine, Dad!” Prompto smiles. Inside, he’s trembling with the thought of what he might do if he found out Gladio had taken his son’s virginity.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he reaches to check it, but hesitates.

“It’s alright,” Cor says. “I know I said no phones at the dinner table, but we’re not technically eating there, are we?” They’re basically just standing over the island, shovelling the roast into their faces. It’s Cor’s specialty, and it’s too good to not eat immediately.

“Thanks,” Prompto grins. He sets his bowl down and fishes out his phone. It’s Gladio. Prompto gets a little nervous to open the message, but Cor is focused on his meal, and he’s opposite Prompto, anyway.

 **G_A:** Why didn’t you wake me up?  
**PL:** i didn’t want to disturb you  
**PL:** my dad called and was super worried  
**PL:** i figured i better get home asap  
**G_A:** I kinda wanted to talk to you before you left.  
**PL:** it’s cool  
**PL:** we’re friends  
**PL:** it happens  
**PL:** it was fun!

Prompto frowns down at his phone, the dots that indicate current typing appearing and disappearing over and over again.

“Anything wrong?” Cor asks, seeing Prompto’s confused look.

“No, it’s all good,” Prompto says.

 **G_A:** Ok. Yeah. Friends.

With a sigh, Prompto pockets his phone. He knew it was nothing more than just an impulsive decision. A little accidental intimacy. He’s sure it happens all of the time. He wouldn't really know, but he just… assumes it happens a lot. Like in movies and TV. No big deal. He really doesn’t know what he would do if he lost Gladio’s friendship.

So why does it feel like a hole opened up in his chest and dumped all of his organs out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ง ื▿ ื)ว


	8. Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto's fall semester is over. Time to celebrate.

**ISS:** Gentlemen, I have rounded you up in a thread to organize our communications on the subject of Noctis’s wedding and our duties as his friends in that arena.  
**ISS:** For starters, we have decided to gather all together to choose our formal wear for the event, rather than risk *some* individuals veering down the wrong path.  
**ALCI:** whoever culd u possibly mean darling ( ･ิ ͜ʖ ･ิ) ╰⋃╯  
**ISS:** Moving right along, we need to schedule the appointment with the tailor in the next two weeks. I'd like to determine which day and what time works for everyone. I apologize for the delayed communication, however the wedding plans are swiftly carrying us all on a rushing tide and we must secure our tailoring as soon as humanly possible.  
**G_A:** I have a bunch of meetings this week re: the Royal Hitching, so I’m probably only free on the weekend.  
**NLC:** i’m obviously under the thumb of whatever schedule u come up with so i’m staying out of this  
**ISS:** A wise decision, Noct.  
**ALCI:** luv i’v already got my royal attire, must i attend??? (⌐■_■)  
**ISS:** You are *not* going to the wedding of two ancient families wearing that elaborate cloak with the ridiculous fedora. I forbid it.  
**ISS:** And that, my good men, is example Number One of why we are organizing this little bonding activity.  
**ISS:** Number Two has yet to weigh in on his availability.  
**G_A:** Hey, what could Prompto possibly do with fashion that would be any worse than what Noct does on a daily basis?  
**NLC:** eat my shorts gladio  
**G_A:** You mean your capri pants?  
**PL:** whoa, sorry guys  
**PL:** just got out of a photo lab  
**PL:** which was my last class of the semester so i’m free as a bird ヽ(o´∀`)ﾉ♪♬  
**PL:** uhhh except for my ridiculously annoying work schedule this week (눈_눈)  
**PL:** but i’m out by 1pm every day that I work so any time/day after that is cool  
**ISS:** Noted. Thank you Prompto.  
**PL:** wait… iggy… you think i’m gonna pick something weird?? ;A;  
**ALCI:** he hates ur bowtie promptomp  
**ALCI:** wants 2 throw it in2 the rock of ravatogh  
**ISS:** Thank you for your tact and diplomacy, dear.  
**ALCI:** ur welcom  
**PL:** my dad picked that out for me (╥﹏╥)  
**NLC:** aw man iggy you look like a jackass now  
**ISS:** I think I can cope with that, Noctis.  
**ISS:** I will be in touch with the date and time of our appointment.

~~~

 **PL:** hey big guy  
**PL:** do you think we could go together to the fitting thing?  
**PL:** i don’t wanna ride to something fancy like that on my scooter  
**G_A:** Sure.  
**PL:** great! thanks so much! (´ ∀ ` *)  
**PL:** sorry i’m such a loser riding around on a little beat up scooter lol

Prompto plays a quick round of King’s Knight on his phone before he realizes that Gladio hasn’t responded. 

**PL:** you ok? rough day?  
**G_A:** Tired.  
**PL:** oh ok. rest up! Ttyl

~~~

A few days pass with no communication between Prompto and Gladio, and Prompto worries that Gladio is avoiding him because he regrets their morning together last Saturday. The fitting is in three days and Prompto fears that the ride over is going to be unbearable. But he has no one else to ask, given that the other guys are all the way on the other side of the city and Prompto knows Noct’s response would be “who cares, just ride your glorified bicycle”.

Letting his anxiety get the better of him, Prompto decides to make it even worse by scrolling the university’s website to check for his grades again. They’re not due until noon, but at eleven forty five, he figures there’s a possibility that they’ve been posted early.

He’s right, as it turns out.

“Is that a 3.6 GPA I see?” Cor’s voice says from behind him, startling him out of his own surprise.

“Y-yeah,” Prompto nods, pointing his finger at the various lines of his individual classes to check each grade. “Of course my math class brought me down a little but it’s the last one I am required to take so next semester should be boosted like crazy!”

“As long as you keep up the hard work,” Cor says, a heavy hand clapping Prompto’s shoulder. “Great job, Prompto. Dinner out tonight, to celebrate?”

“Ooooh, yes please!” Prompto turns toward his dad on the swivelling bar stool. “Taste of Lestallum? Please?”

“Of course,” Cor laughs. “I’ll call and reserve a table. Is it alright if I invite Monica? She’ll be happy to hear of your success.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Prompto grins, but the request flips weirdly in his stomach. It’s strange to share his dad with someone else after all of these years. But he knows that it’s a silly, selfish impulse. And he likes Monica! She’s a really wonderful person, warm and friendly and _seems_ to like him, too.

~~~

“Cor!” A baritone voice calls as they enter the restaurant. “Monica! And Prompto, what a lovely coincidence!”

Clarus Amicitia sits at a rather large table with his family, including his enormous son who hasn’t spoken to Prompto in four days. Iris, Gladio’s rather gifted younger sister, who at seventeen is already in her first year of university at a prominent fashion design school in the heart of Insomnia, sits to Clarus’s right. Gladio’s mother, Primula, is a quiet woman with sandy blonde hair and green eyes, very different from her offspring. Clarus’s genetics must be strong.

“You’ll join us, won’t you?” Clarus asks, waving over a server to grab more chairs and some more menus.

“Dear, perhaps they’re having their own little celebration,” Primula says, patting his arm.

“We were, actually,” Cor bows his head to Lady Amicitia. “But it would be wonderful to join you if it isn't an imposition. Prompto finished his semester with outstanding grades. What are you all celebrating?”

“Congratulations, Prompto,” Clarus grins at him before answering Cor, his proud hand clapping heavily onto his daughter’s shoulder. She grunts in surprise. “Iris here won her textiles competition this very afternoon. Quite the little overachievers we’ve got, eh, Cor?”

“We do,” Cor smiles, helping Monica into her seat when the staff bring three over. “Iris, that’s incredible. You’ve got to be one of the youngest in your class. Quite an achievement.”

“Thank you, Mr. Leonis!” Iris grins wide like her father. “Prom, nice job, too!”

“Thanks, Iris,” Prompto nods with a fond smile. “I hope you’re gonna send me pics of your project.”

“I’ll do it now!” Iris chirps.

“Now, now, let’s all decide on our meals so that the servers don’t think we’re going to nurse our drinks all night.” Clarus suggests, forcing Iris to put her phone back into her pocket. The seven of them proceed to chit-chat amongst themselves about what they’d like to try from the menu.

Prompto is of course a little distracted by Gladio sitting right across the table from him, not looking Prompto’s way at all and barely saying a word.

“Prompto, would you be interested in sharing some of this enormous shrimp cocktail with me?” Monica asks from the other side of his father. “No one else will join me and there’s far too much there.”

“For sure, Monica, I’d love to,” Prompto smiles at her, nodding his approval. “Wow, yeah, it looks amazing.” There’s a tray passing them by with the elaborate glass plating filled with sauce and balancing nearly twenty shrimp around its rim.

“I knew I could count on you,” Monica says, offering him a pleasant quirk of her lips.

He wonders a bit what it would have been like to grow up with her as his mother. As it is now, it’s clear she’s not comfortable offering him a hug yet, but she is warm and seems to hope that Prompto will accept her affection. 

He feels a little bad regretting only having Cor as he grew up - having Cor at _all_ was a miracle. And his father is an understanding, nurturing man, despite what the average person might believe him capable of. Still. Having a mom might have been nice. Prompto glances over at Gladio sitting next to his mother, pointing out items from the menu and smiling at her while she affectionately pats his forearm. She must be where he gets his tendency toward physical affection.

“So, Prompto,” Clarus asks, startling him from his reverie, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to attend the wedding with Prince Ravus? That way Gladio could invite his Aranea-”

“She’s not _mine_ ,” Gladio says, his tone a bit exasperated. “Dad, we broke up last week.”

“Oh,” Clarus blinks, picking up his wine glass. “I’m sorry to hear that, son. My apologies.”

“It’s fine,” Gladio shrugs, deliberately not looking in Prompto’s direction. “We weren’t really getting serious. I’m happy it ended with no hard feelings. We’re going to be able to be friends.”

“That’s wonderful, dear,” Primula says, patting his hand resting on the table. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Mama,” Gladio nods, and retreats into his own wine glass.

Prompto feels his father’s hand grasp his, briefly, comfortingly, under the table. Offering a soft smile to Cor, he draws in a long breath and reaches for his water, mirroring everyone else’s discomfort.

“Iris, are you going with the girls to the dress fittings? Give them some tips?” Clarus smiles pleasantly, changing the subject.

“Of course,” Iris nods, a haughty look on her face. “Who else would they ask for help?”

“Braggart,” Gladio smirks against his glass, earning him a grimace from his baby sister.

“It’s not bragging, it’s being honest,” Clarus laughs. “And since when are you a paragon of humility, Gladiolus?”

“Back off me, will you old man?” Gladio says with humor in his voice. “Mama, can’t you do something about him?”

“Never, Gladio, never,” Primula smiles across to her loving husband.

“Are we all set to order?” The server asks, hesitantly interrupting their conversation. He is poised with his tablet in hand to take their order. His grin is only partially a facade - Prompto can see that anxious look a mile away. It’s the same look he has when he has to corral customers at a midnight release for a book at the shop.

“We’re going to do separate checks, if that’s okay,” He says, trying to help the harried man out at the start.

~~~

“I will never get sick of that place,” Clarus announces as the group files out of the restaurant. “I’m glad you were able to join us tonight, it made a wonderful evening even more fantastic.”

“Yes, it was a pleasure,” Monica answers, bowing her head to the Lord. “Thank you so much for inviting us over.”

“I insist that we do this again,” Primula says to Monica, taking her by the hand. “It was such a pleasure getting to know you all better.”

While the others chatter on, Prompto finds that he and Gladio have been shifted around the group to the edge, right next to each other. The majority of the evening had been filled with conversation that minimized the awkwardness, not to mention their proximity had been avoided by the seating arrangements.

If this was how it was going to be, perhaps he *should* simply ask Ravus to-

No, that would be _such_ a selfish imposition. He would have to simply bear it. Or figure out some way to fix it.

“So,” Gladio says, low and clearly trying for privacy while maintaining a casual appearance for the rest of the group. “Done with your semester, finally?” He huddles into his large peacoat, scarf wrapped high around his jaw.

“Uh, yeah, yup,” Prompto nods, bouncing on his toes as he shoves his naked hands into his coat pockets. With just a few words, his anxious energy relaxes. “Last class was Monday morning.”

“Wanna come over?” Gladio asks, as if they haven’t been in a multi-day awkward silence. “Unless you have work tomorrow morning.”

“No- I mean, I don’t have work - I-I’m off tomorrow.” Prompto says, biting his chapped bottom lip and rocking on his heels to stay warm. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yes, Prompto?”

“I’m gonna go hang out with Gladio,” Prompto points a thumb at the larger guy. “Gonna watch more movies, so I’ll probably just crash at his place.”

Cor looks between his son and Gladio for a moment before nodding and saying, “See you in the afternoon, I assume?”

“Ha, ha, yeah probably,” Prompto laughs, but he’s a little worried about the momentary hesitation. Cor is probably calculating the chances of Prompto and Gladio indulging in what they are most _certainly_ going to indulge in. But perhaps Cor thinks that it’s still so unrequited that it’s not possible. Either that, or he’s decided that Prompto is an adult - which he _is_ \- and can make that terrible, idiotic decision on his own.

Either way, Prompto is glad for it.

~~~

There’s no pretending that they’re going to do anything but fuck. The moment they step past the threshold of Gladio’s apartment, the larger man’s hands are pushing the coat off of Prompto’s broad shoulders and onto the floor so that he can flatten them against Prompto’s belly and smooth them up and under the button up he’s wearing.

Their mouths clash, almost as if there’s an anger simmering between them, and while the heat and the brush of teeth is lighting sparks up and down Prompto’s lower belly and legs, he’s also a little mournful. There isn’t even a hint of the playful fun or fondness that came before.

He wonders if they’ve lost everything that Prompto treasured most between them.

Gladio pulls him along and drops them both onto the sofa, Prompto’s legs spreading wide around Gladio’s hips, and then they’re kissing long and slow and softly. The hands on his hips migrate to Prompto’s ass, kneading rhythmically and purposefully over his jeans.

“Pants off,” Gladio breathes, as he reaches for the button and fly at Prompto’s waist, between their bellies. It’s quick work to divest them, and even quicker to yank down the small briefs trapping his insistent arousal.

Gladio frees his own manhood, though only through the opening in his underwear and dress pants, before pulling Prompto back down to tease at his hole with spit-slick fingers. It’s rough, but it feels excellent, and in moments Prompto is shuddering and barely able to stay up on his knees.

“Please,” Prompto begs, his face buried in the hair loose at the nape of Gladio’s neck as he hangs on. “Please, please.”

Gladio grunts in reply and guides Prompto’s hips down with one hand while his other lines his cock up with the pucker of Prompto’s opening. A long, broken shout shudders from Prompto’s mouth as Gladio’s considerable girth spreads him open even further.

Gladio’s palms slip up and under the hem of Prompto’s dress shirt again, grasping at the divot of his hip bones and forcing him roughly down onto his length, over and over, while Prompto bounces his ass in counterpoint as best he can.

Prompto’s cock is absolutely drooling with precome, and it’s definitely staining the front of his shirt as it rubs up and down under the fabric. He wants _so badly_ for Gladio to take him in hand and just jerk him to completion-

Almost as if Gladio reads his mind, there’s a warm palm enclosing him, smoothing his foreskin up and down over the leaking head, and he’s _coming_.

A scream breaks from his throat, his muscles twitching and aching with the arch of his spine, and he tightens around Gladio _so hard_. There’s a warm burst deep in Prompto, oozing out of him and onto Gladio’s nice slacks. The insistence of Gladio’s thrusts continues, even as the larger man shakes under Prompto, rapidly growing soft, slipping completely out and unable to re-enter him.

They’re sweating, breathing like they’ve just finished a wrestling match and covered in far too much fluid to be comfortable.

“I’ll start the shower for you,” Gladio breathes, pushing Prompto gently off of himself and onto the sofa. “You can throw your clothes into the washer with mine, and start it up.” Gladio gets up and lets his pants and underwear drop before picking them up off the floor and tugging at the buttons of his own dress shirt. “If you want, you can make yourself a bed with the stuff from last time. And feel free to use the robe on the back of the bathroom door.”

“O-okay,” Prompto breathes, still not quite ready to get up yet. He sits in a way that hopefully leaves none of the mess leaking out of him on the surface of the sofa.

As Gladio makes his way to the bathroom, he dumps the laundry into the machine and ducks inside the room to clean himself. It’s a quick job, since Prompto caught the most of the mess both inside him and up under his own shirt.

The sound of the water gently falling from the shower head reminds Prompto of their first time. But somehow he’s sure that it’s not going to go the same way.

Gladio doesn’t even look at him as he re-emerges from the bathroom with a towel around his hips. He pushes past the slightly ajar door to his bedroom and lets it fall nearly all the way shut behind himself.

Prompto stands, undoing his own buttons and his silly little chocobo-printed tie, feeling a deep well of confusion, frustration and a tiny shard of anger. Wiping himself with the shirt, so as not to track a puddle through the apartment, he toes off his socks and gathers them with the rest of his clothing to dump his stuff in the washer, as well as starting it up.

He lets the rain shower pour over him for only a few minutes, working a finger carefully inside to rid the remaining evidence of their copulation from his body. He’s oddly numb the entire time, mechanically washing himself until he’s sure he’s fully clean.

Without looking at himself in the mirror, Prompto dries off and wraps himself in the robe. It’s far, far too big for him, but it’s warm and comfortable and soft and he makes his way to the linen closet to gather his solo sleepover gear. No pillows, this time, though. He looks at the mostly-closed door of Gladio’s room and decides that he’s _not_ going in there to beg for some.

Prompto waits until the washer is done, depositing both of their clothes into the dryer and setting it to the proper cycle.

He wants to just go home. But if he does, his dad will _know_. Know that his son has been playing with fire, and got terribly, painfully burnt. Even though the wound is numb, for now.

He sets an early alarm on his phone, lays down on the sheets, balling up the blanket underneath his head and falls asleep in the fuzzy robe that smells of Gladio.

~~~

At seven in the morning, Prompto’s alarm trills, waking him from a fitful sleep full of anxiety dreams. He silences the noise and sits up, aching from laying in one position all night, and turns to look back at Gladio’s bedroom door, no change since he looked at it hours ago.

He blinks down at his phone, wondering where he could go and hang out for a few hours so his dad won’t be suspicious of him returning too soon. He’s a little glad that he went with casual sneakers for the dinner last night, because he can just go on a run for a little bit and clear his thoughts.

He pads his way over to the dryer quietly as he did the first time and gets himself put more-or-less together. This time he doesn’t fold Gladio’s clothes.

It’s a crisp morning and the cold wakes Prompto up a bit more. It puts his messy thoughts into the back of his mind as his body screams at him to keep moving to stay warm. About three blocks away from Gladio’s place there is a lovely park with fountains and trees and a large pond with a trail. He takes off jogging when he hits the dirt path and then it’s a simple put-one-foot-in-front-of-the-other impulse that he can fall into.

His phone buzzes in his pocket a couple times but he ignores it until he’s out of breath and needs to slow to a walk.

 **G_A:** Why do you keep leaving without saying anything?  
**G_A:** Not very *friendly*.

Prompto is, _now_ , a little pissed off.

 **PL:** just gettin out of your way asap  
**PL:** figured i’d bounce before you came out of your bedroom  
**PL:** thought maybe you wanted some more time alone  
**PL:** since you seemed to after we were finished  
**G_A:** You could have come in and slept in my bed.  
**G_A:** I told you you could make up the couch if you *wanted* to.  
**PL:** yeah that was super clear  
**PL:** the door closing practically in my face was a great indicator you wanted me to come in

Prompto is _so_ close to crying in public, and he _fucking hates it_. He hates this petty garbage spewing out of his mouth like bile. He hates being angry at all, and _especially_ at Gladio.

 **G_A:** I fucked this up, didn’t I?  
**PL:** you and me both  
**G_A:** Fuck.  
**PL:** yeah.  
**G_A:** Should I leave you alone until the wedding?  
**PL:** no!  
**PL:** no please don’t  
**PL:** just… maybe we shouldn’t be *alone* together anymore  
**G_A:** Yeah, you’re probably right.  
**G_A:** Sorry, Prom.  
**PL:** me too, gladio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (－‸ლ)


	9. An Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the suit fitting, Prompto gets some news.

“Ugh,” Noctis grumbles, stumbling out of his bedroom, barely functional. It is, after all, eight in the morning.

“‘Mornin’, buddy!” Prompto greets him, stirring his coffee and licking the spoon of the remnants of the caramel sauce he’d poured into it. “Got some hot bean juice going for you.”

“Why are you always so _chipper_?” Noct moans, sitting at his kitchen island and letting his head hit the surface as he melts against it.

“We really _do_ need to get you to a sleep clinic,” Ignis says as he shuffles into the open area of the kitchen and living space. “Though luckily in some weeks it will no longer be my job to make sure you are awake every morning.”

“Poor Luna,” Prompto sighs.

“Specs,” Noct groans.

“Yes, yes,” Ignis sighs, grabbing a mug to prepare Noct’s drink. “Three sugars? Honestly, you two are going to be the first people to rot your teeth out by drinking _coffee_.”

“Nah, Iggy, my teeth are perfectly fine. Never had a cavity.” Prompto flashes a bright smile. “Dad made sure I had a good brushing routine.”

“Thankfully,” Ignis chuckles, carefully sliding the mug over to Noctis. “Noct, after you drink that, go and get dressed. I’ll prepare something light for breakfast so that you won’t feel too full for your fitting.”

“Mmalright,” Noctis slurs, sipping his drink.

“Need help with anything?” Prompto asks Ignis, eager to do something helpful when he had begged - well, asked politely and instantly invited - his way into a sleepover to avoid riding to the fitting with Gladio.

They’ve been… okay. Texting occasionally. Nothing too deep. Still, avoidance seems to be the best course of action to combat the awkwardness.

It’s slowly killing Prompto. But it’s whatever.

“That would be lovely,” Ignis answers, handing him a carton of strawberries. “Care to slice these for me? The way I showed you last time?”

“Sure thing, bud,” Prompto nods, grabbing a small cutting board and paring knife. Prompto whistles a little tune as he works, laughing when Noct nearly falls asleep again, right into his rapidly cooling coffee. “Dude, go splash your face with cold water. Works for me on tough mornings.”

“Do try not to get your hair too wet,” Ignis says from the range as he makes his signature scrambled eggs.

“I’m fine,” Noct sighs. “Gonna go get dressed.”

“Something easy to change out of,” Ignis reminds him.

“Yes, _Dad_ ,” Noct rolls his eyes and Prompto snorts a laugh.

~~~

“Alright, everyone, I have called ahead and ordered up a rack of options for each of us,” Ignis says, once they’ve swept in and been escorted to their private fitting area. “Your names are on each, the suits should be just slightly off-size so that they can more accurately be tailored to your measurements.”

“I really don’t know why I have to be here,” Noctis sighs. “My clothes are being taken care of by Luna’s designer.”

“It will be a nice bonding activity for your closest friends,” Ignis says. “Also, don’t you want to know how well they’ll be representing you?”

“By what they wear to my wedding?” Noct raises an eyebrow. “Nobody cares about that-”

“Apart from the other nobles to whom you are _less than_ close,” Ignis says. “Those that do not favor you or your father will be judging you in many things. Your acquaintances will come under scrutiny for even the smallest of infractions.”

Prompto sweats a little under that. He’s easily the lowest on the scale of impressive friendships for royalty.

“It is quite the mystery how we’ve come to adore each other so, Ignis,” Ardyn smiles fondly. “You, with your adherence to proper rules and customs, and I, with… well the exact opposite of that.”

“Where you lack in propriety, you excel in cleverness and charm, darling,” Ignis assures him, a rare affectionate hand on the older man’s. Ardyn clinks their glasses of champagne together with a fond smile.

_The romantic atmosphere must be having an effect on even Ignis,_ Prompto chuckles to himself. He can’t help his eyes from straying to Gladio, rather aloof as he shifts hangers down the rack with his name on it.

Prompto sighs, somber. It’s all he can do to keep himself away from the larger man. But it’s for the best.

“Prompto, shall we start with you?” Ignis asks, breaking Prompto out of his thoughts.

“Oh,” Prompto blinks. “I assumed we were gonna see yours, first, Iggy. Show us how it’s done, ya know?”

“Nonsense,” Ignis smiles. “Let’s get you into the changing room with your first option.”

Four suits later and Noctis sits up in his seat. “That’s the one, for sure, Prom. You look great!”

“Really?” Prompto asks, looking at himself in the mirror, able to see the guys behind him. The suit is a very dark purple, the waistcoat white to match the shirt, and the tie a rather elaborate affair; threads of gold woven through it with swirling filigrees and delicate touches. The coat is high cut and has tails. Prompto thinks it’s a little odd, not quite the level of formal required for a Royal wedding. In fact, it’s a miracle Ignis allowed this one to make it onto the rack.

“Absolutely,” Noct nods. Ardyn seems to agree, holding up his champagne glass in a salute. Ignis looks slightly uneasy. Gladio looks… distracted, even with his eyes firmly on Prompto.

“I feel a little bit like I should be wearing a top hat,” Prompto laughs. “It’s not too… me?”

“That’s exactly why it’s the one,” Noct grins.

“I did allow it to be an option,” Ignis sighs. Clearly he is not exactly in love with it.

“You look splendid, young man,” Ardyn says, taking a long pull from his drink.

“Thanks, grandad,” Prompto sticks his tongue out at him. It’s become an endearment between them at this point. Even if Ardyn is ten years younger than his own father.

“Gladio?” Ignis asks, maybe hoping that Gladio will express displeasure in it and give him a reason to ask for Prompto to continue trying on clothing.

Gladio blinks, his eyes pulled away from Prompto with Ignis’s question. “I like it,” Gladio says, nodding.

The group waits for an awkward moment, expecting more to be forthcoming, but it seems that’s all Gladio has to say on the matter.

“Well, thank you for that enlightening addition,” Ignis sighs. “Alright, well. I can hardly object when Noctis seems to be quite enamored of it.”

“You like it, Prom?” Noctis asks.

“Yeah, actually, this was my favorite of all of them,” Prompto chuckles. “Must be getting predictable.”

“Alright, then, change out of that and we will move on to Gladio,” Ignis says.

“I know which one I want,” Gladio says, surprising the group. “I’ll put it on for you to see, but that’s the one.”

“Works for me,” Noct says, yawning. “Gets us done here quicker and we can go out to lunch.”

“Gladio,” Ignis sighs, “I spent nearly two hours sorting through options for you-”

“Astrals, can you imagine what Ignis is going to be like when it’s _his_ wedding?” Noct says.

Ardyn chokes on his champagne.

“Fine,” Ignis says, tartly, determined to blow right past the suggestion of his own nuptials. “Let’s see your choice.”

Prompto’s phone trills from his pocket.

“Prompto…” Ignis sighs.

“Sorry, sorry,” Prompto says, silencing it. It’s a call from his dad. He’s pretty sure he told his father he’d be out until the evening. Debating whether to take the call or just text him after, Prompto bites his lip.

“Go on and take it,” Ignis says. “Since Gladio is going to be in and out within seconds.”

“Haha, that’s what his girlfriends say, anyway,” Noctis snorts.

“I’ll remember that next time you ask me to take you out to the bar, you brat,” Gladio grumbles, taking his choice into the fitting room.

“Be right back,” Prompto assures them. He makes his way to the breezeway, not wanting to go fully out into the cold. “Hey, dad, sorry for the late pick-up, I’m with the guys-”

“Prompto,” Monica’s voice comes down the line, instead of his father’s. “Honey, it’s me.”

“Oh, hey, Monica,” Prompto says, blinking a bit, his mind trying to work out why _she’d_ call him. Maybe his dad is driving, or something. “What’s up?”

“Sweetie, are you somewhere you can sit?”

Prompto’s stomach plummets into his hips. “Wha-? No, I’m- what is it? What’s going on?”

“It’s your dad,” Monica says, gently. “He’s in the Citadel medical wing. He’s had an incident.”

“What kind of incident?” Prompto feels himself fall against the wall, barely staying on his feet.

“He suffered a heart attack, honey,” Monica says, her voice apologetic. “He’s doing alright now, he’s sitting up and talking and everything. Badgering the staff about when he can leave. He didn’t even want me to call you; he knew you were with the Prince and your friends. But I knew you couldn’t be left in the dark.”

Prompto’s breath is coming in short bursts, as if he’s just gotten done with his morning run. “Yeah, yeah, thank you, Monica. I - I don’t have my scooter, I got driven here by Ignis-”

“I can send a car to you,” Monica says. “I can meet you when you arrive to get you through security.”

“Let me just - I don’t wanna just leave-”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Monica tells him, her concern clear in her voice. “Call me on your dad’s phone when you’re ready and I’ll send someone over.”

“Thanks, Monica,” Prompto nods into the phone. Tears break away from his eyes when he realizes just how like his father that unnecessary motion is.

“See you soon,” She says, and they hang up.

Prompto presses fingers against his leaking eyes, trying to compose himself before returning to the group. He doesn’t want to ruin the fun they’ve been having, doesn’t want to break up the celebratory atmosphere. But he’s also _not_ going to be apart from his dad when something this severe has happened.

It takes a moment for him to get the tears under control, but when he feels less shaky he makes his way back in.

By the time he gets back, Gladio is back in his chair and Ardyn is missing.

Prompto supposes his distress must be clear on his face, judging the looks that Noctis and Ignis are giving him. It’s delayed, but Gladio sees their expressions and turns to look at him, too.

“Prom?” Noct asks. “Are you okay?”

“Uh,” Prompto answers, hesitant. The tears are threatening to return, and there’s a tightness in his throat. “Not - no, I’m not. Uh, my dad. He - he had a heart attack. He’s okay- but, like, _still-_ ”

Noct is out of his chair and wrapping his arms around Prompto quicker than he’s ever done anything in the time they’ve known each other. “Dude, I’m sorry. That’s - _I’m sorry_.”

“Thanks,” Prompto nods into Noct’s shoulder, hugging him back. “I gotta go over to the Citadel medical wing, I’m really sorry I have to leave-”

“Think nothing of it,” Ignis says, suddenly at Prompto’s left side, a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “We can finish up here and we will make sure to check on you later.”

“Thanks, Ignis,” Prompto says.

“I’ll take you over there,” Gladio says, from over Noct’s shoulder. “Ignis?”

“Of course, please do,” Ignis nods.

“Monica said she’d send someone-”

“I’ll take you,” Gladio insists.

Prompto nods.

~~~

In the safety and familiarity of Gladio’s truck, Prompto allows himself a few tears. He wishes he could just curl into himself, but there’s nowhere to really curl up comfortably.

Gladio’s hand moves from the steering wheel, seemingly hovering over Prompto’s hand against the seat. But he is clearly hesitant.

“Is… this okay?” Gladio asks.

“Yes, please,” Prompto sighs, turning his hand palm up to grab Gladio’s.

“Your dad’ll be allright, you know,” Gladio says, squeezing. “The Citadel has the best doctors in the world.”

“I know,” Prompto says, but he _doesn’t_. His dad has always been “The Immortal”. Prompto has always known that it was a silly nickname bestowed on him by people under him, in awe of him. That his dad is just a man. But his dad has always been there, and now Prompto has to confront what it will be like when he _isn’t_.

It’s _terrifying_. He briefly thinks of the teens he’d met on the street last week. Sure, he’s much older than them, but… is he really going to be any better off than them if he loses his dad? He’s… never had to take care of himself, all alone.

“Gladio,” Prompto says, noticing them taking a wrong turn. “We’re going to the medical wing.”

“It’s quicker through the Crownsguard training hall,” Gladio tells him, driving his truck to the underground lot. “I can get you in there with my clearance and then up the elevators. Less protocol when we’re in my domain.”

“Oh,” Prompto blinks, thankful that Gladio has the wherewithal to have a solid plan. “Thanks.”

“I’m just relieved I can help,” Gladio says, squeezing his hand again.

They park and Gladio grabs his badge from the locked glove compartment, slipping the lanyard around his neck. Prompto drops down to the ground from the cab and rubs a hand over his face, trying to compose himself, to pull his expression into one of normalcy so that he doesn’t stress his father out any further. In a moment, Gladio is at his side, reaching again for his hand, and it surprises and pleases Prompto to have that anchor.

Even when they arrive at the doors, Gladio doesn’t let go. He holds up his badge; a formality - the officer on duty is already opening the door for him. The woman doesn’t even question Prompto’s presence there.

They sweep through the hall, past the training rooms and the offices and to the elevator, the fifth floor button labeled “MW” in blue with white lettering.

“Hey, Aditus,” Gladio says quietly. “Which room is Cor in?”

“Oh, Hello, sir,” Aditus nods, his eyes flicking over to Prompto with a bit of a question in his gaze. “He’s down in 117. I’ll open the doors for you.”

A buzz sounds and Gladio leads Prompto through, down a few doors before they reach the appropriate one. Glancing inside, Gladio grabs the handle and pulls it open carefully and quietly, holding it for Prompto to go inside first.

“Dad,” Prompto gasps, not prepared for the sight of his father with a cannula in his nose and an IV, despite the fact that he’s sitting up, his untethered hand in Monica’s.

“Prompto,” Cor says, and it’s a weak, thready voice, completely unlike him. “Gladio, thank you.”

“Sir,” Gladio says, softly, bowing his head minutely. “It’s great to see you’re doing alright.”

“Well enough to go home, but no one believes me,” Cor chuckles, a wheezing cough following it.

Prompto shivers, still holding on to Gladio like a lifeline.

“I’ll wait outside, okay, Prom?” Gladio says, and Prompto blinks up at him. “If you need me.”

Prompto nods, releasing his hand. “Okay.”

“I’ll let you two have a few minutes,” Monica says, following Gladio out.

Once the door shuts, Prompto makes his way to the bed, trying desperately to hold himself together despite how fragile he feels.

“Dad,” Prompto says, his voice trembling. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, son,” Cor nods. “I know it doesn’t sound like it, but I’m doing fine. They won’t let me go until I have a few tests done, but I’ve been stable for hours now.”

Prompto nods, feeling the tears coming.

“Oh, Prompto,” Cor says, holding out his arms. “It’s going to be okay. Come here.”

Prompto hugs his father very carefully, letting his tears flow.

“I’m sorry,” Prompto gasps.

“For what?”

“For not being stronger,” Prompto confesses. “I tried to hold it together, Dad. But-”

“Prompto,” Cor says, and it’s a little stronger, that stern voice he uses when Prompto is saying things about himself that Cor refuses to believe are true. “Your big heart is the best thing about you. Don’t ever apologize for it, or try to change it.”

~~~

“So we’ll know a little more tomorrow about when I’ll get out of here,” Cor says, putting the cap on their discussion of the doctor’s expectations. “Monica wants to stay with me, and I’d really rather you go home and get some real rest.”

“Dad,” Prompto protests.

“No debates, Prompto,” Cor says. “I’m fine, I _will be fine_. You’ve had a hard afternoon. Please go home and rest. And send Monica back in?”

“Alright,” Prompto nods, leaning back over to hug Cor again. “Text me if you need anything from home. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Not too early,” Cor says. “Sleep in a little.”

“We’ll see,” Prompto laughs, but it’s a bit shaky.

He waves back at his dad as he leaves the room, both Monica and Gladio rising from their chairs in the hall as he walks out.

“Thanks again, Monica,” Prompto says, taking the chance that she’ll feel comfortable with a hug, now. She gladly gives it, and her arms are soft and comforting, petting his hair as she holds him close. It’s really nice. They pull back, and she’s smiling softly and gives his cheek a little pat, too. “Dad’s forcing me to go home. He said the doctor will be back tomorrow with more test results and probably a recovery plan. I’ll come back in the morning.”

“Try to rest,” Monica nods. “I’ll make sure he gets some, too.”

“Thank you,” Prompto says. “Um, Gladio, could you-?”

“Yeah, of course,” Gladio says, putting a hand on his back, not quite high enough to be on the nape of his neck, but close. It’s comforting. Tethering. “Let’s go.”

~~~

“Let’s grab some food on the way,” Gladio says when they’ve climbed into his truck again, a fond smile on his lips. “You didn’t even get to eat lunch.”

“Oh, yeah,” Prompto sighs. “Food. That’s a thing that people need.”

“So I hear,” Gladio says, a hand smoothing down the back of Prompto’s hair. “How are you doing?”

“Wrung out,” Prompto says. “Honestly, I’d really rather just go home, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course not,” Gladio says. “Are you sure you don’t want _something_?”

“Maybe later,” Prompto answers, leaning into Gladio’s touch. “I’m just… really tired.”

“Alright, then,” Gladio caresses his hair one more time before pulling his hand away to fire up the ignition. “Let’s get you back there.”

It’s a quiet drive, and Prompto nearly falls asleep against the window, his hand back in Gladio’s. He tries to close his eyes and doze, but his thoughts are racing.

What is this going to mean for his dad? Is he going to be less able to be physically active? That would kill- _devastate_ him. Probably he’ll have to have a completely new diet. Oh, gods, was it something that they’ve been eating that clogged his heart? Did Prompto make something that was too fatty, because he likes eating trashy food? Did _he_ do this to-

“I’m gonna park, okay?” Gladio says, startling Prompto out of his darkly turning thoughts. “I wanna make sure you’re good before I head out.”

“Sure,” Prompto says, leading them into the house once Gladio’s truck is securely in the driveway.

The house is dark and empty and Prompto is _not_ in a place to see the normalcy in it. Right now, it’s a grim portent of his life if Cor had not had luck on his side today. He instantly begins to quiver, freezing in the doorway, until Gladio’s warm arm wraps around him.

“It’s okay, Prom,” Gladio says, gently. “Lemme get the light.”

Once the switch is flipped, warm light floods the foyer and seeps into the living area and kitchen, opposite each other off the entry hall. The oppressive darkness fades, the cold shadows banished.

“You want me to help you up to your room?” Gladio asks, carefully. “Or did you want to try to relax a bit before going to sleep?”

“I think I want to put something stupid on TV and fall asleep on the couch, actually.”

“D’you want me to call Noct? Have him come over and do the best friend thing?”

“No! They’re gonna be at dinner, or whatever,” Prompto shakes his head. “I don’t wanna ruin his day any more than I already have.”

“Hey,” Gladio says, leading him over to the sofa and softly pushing him down to sit. “You know he doesn’t feel that way.”

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees. “Still.”

“Is it okay if _I_ stay?” Gladio asks, hesitant.

“Please,” Prompto nods, reaching out for Gladio’s hand, to pull him down to sit, too.

Gladio lets himself fall onto the couch, and Prompto knows he shouldn’t take advantage of the kindness, but he desperately needs some kind of familiarity right now. He curls against Gladio’s side, the comfort of his closeness a balm to his trembling heart.

Gladio’s huge arm wraps around him, and the larger man reaches for the remote on the coffee table, flipping the television on. “What’re we watchin’?”

“Tonberry Chef,” Prompto says, sleepily.

“Excellent,” Gladio replies, his broad hand smoothing down Prompto’s shoulder as he switches the channel to the episodes saved by Cor.

Prompto doesn’t even see the special ingredient announcement before his eyes give up and he slips into a comfortable sleep against Gladio’s rhythmically rising and falling chest, warm and safe.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find all my FFXV posting on twitter @fictionalthirst


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